


Mine!

by McShipIt



Series: Domestic Bliss? [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Crew as Family, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Married Couple, Post-Star Trek: Into Darkness, Side of Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-05 19:54:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1830259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McShipIt/pseuds/McShipIt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Captain's log, Stardate 2260.73. On a top secret diplomatic mission, the Enterprise has entered the Tellun star system. Maintaining communications blackout, we have taken aboard the Dohlman, from the inner planet, Elas, and are on our way to the outer planet, Troyius.</i><br/> <br/>“It’s one little princess. How much trouble could she be?”</p><p>Trials and tribulations of the happily married couple. An AU-AOS take on STOS - S03E02.<br/>Same universe as <i>Strike!</i> but set before it. Can be standalone.<br/>COMPLETE<br/></p><div class="center">
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    <a href="http://uploads.im/HEirT.jpg"></a>
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            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

According to James T. Kirk, it was too much work to be civilized.

Jim would take a skirmish with a Klingon patrol over a fancy dinner party any day of the week. Unfortunately, Captain James T. Kirk was the poster boy for the Federation, and that meant parading diplomats and ambassadors all over the galaxy. Being the captain of the flagship came with costs, but it also came with a few privileges, like the one he was indulging in at the moment. As captain, his quarters were afforded full water rations while on diplomatic missions. He took advantage of those privileges—never once feeling bad about it—especially when he’d be choking on the collar of his formal dress uniform in a few hours when he greeted the latest convoy to be escorted to their next planetary destination.

The only thing Jim hated more than being stuck on Earth in endless meetings and committee hearings, was having to babysit planetary diplomats. He was a man of action, not a man meant for tea parties, or hosting extravagant dinners for dignitaries who were too highbrow for him to have real conversations. Jim Kirk had never been good at placating royalty or important people, he didn’t have the patience for it. Sure, he was known for his charm, but it tended to have limits in certain upper echelons. He was raised in the back-skirts of Iowa by an absent mother and an abusive uncle. What did he know about rubbing elbows with the right people? Fortunately for him, he was married to a person who was familiar with customs and refined etiquette, especially when it came to the demands of the wealthy.

Leonard McCoy was Georgia-born and raised, where Southerners tried to hold on to the echoes of the past, which meant cotillions, ladies lunching, and extravagant balls were abundant. The McCoy family went back a few generations in Georgia. They were 'old money'—the only kind that mattered, according to some in the South. Bones knew which fork went where, how the dishes were served, and what exactly happened when a ten-course meal was on the menu. If it wasn't for Bones, Jim would be slurping soup from a cup, instead of gracefully dipping his spoon away from him against the edge of the bowl.

Jim had left Bones in their bed, sated and sleeping, stealing away to enjoy a few minutes to himself under the hot, steaming water. There was a couple of hours before the visitors would be aboard his ship, and there was much to be done to prepare for their arrival. Spock and Uhura would have a handle on the preparations, but he needed to go over the arrangements and requirements before they reached Elas. There were times his duties were so tedious, he longed to break away from the propriety and regulations, anxiously waiting for that Starfleet mission where he'd finally get to do some deep space exploration. But for now, the Federation saw fit to keep him and his ship close. This was Starfleet Command’s way of keeping an eye on their rogue captain, and keeping him within their grasp so he couldn’t get up to the infamous rule-breaking he was known for. _More like a tight fist_ , Jim thought as the warm water ran over his head.

After Khan, and the death of his mentor, Christopher Pike, the Admirals were wary about letting Jim and his crew of young geniuses stray too far. Relations with the Klingons and the Romulans were still fragile, and both empires had a few bones to pick with the young captain and the ship known as The Enterprise. The five-year, deep space mission Jim had been hoping for seemed a far off distant dream, one he’d probably never get to experience any time soon.

Jim was broken from his spell of wallowing and feeling sorry for himself, by the sound of the bathroom door opening. It was only moments later when he felt Bones’ arms wrapping around his chest, his hands gently caressing his skin as he placed soft kisses on the back of Jim’s neck. Jim heard a grunt of approval from behind him, feeling Bones solid and firm pressing up against his backside.

 _Shit,_ Jim thought, _I just needed one minute._ _Even thirty seconds or just ten, enough to take a piss._ After two years of domestic bliss with Bones, they’d never been in this predicament before. They tended to keep their ‘business’ separate from each other. They weren’t one of those couples who left the bathroom door open, or shared their space while they took care of things. Bones ‘was a doctor, dammit,’ he had enough of people’s bodily fluids without being privy to his husband’s. At least that’s what Bones said whenever Jim tried to use the facilities while Bones was in there. He always reminded Jim that some things were better left to the mysteries of life, rather than firsthand knowledge.

Unfortunately, Jim really had to piss, and pissing with a hard on was not fun—at all. Jim could feel his cock gaining some momentum the more Bones pressed himself against his backside. Bones’ hands started to make their way south, seeking him out, and Jim knew he was done for. Before Jim moved past semi-hard, he was going to have to take care of his painfully full bladder.

So he did.

Right in the shower, hoping Bones wouldn’t notice.

“Jim!”

Except he noticed.

Bones jumped back from him. “Did you just piss in the shower?”

Jim shrugged, turning around, trying to play it off like it was no big deal.

“You pissed on me!” Bones’ brow furrowed, his nostrils flaring like he was capable of murder at that very moment.

“Some people are into it?” Jim gave him a hopeful smile. Not that he’d ever want to explore that side of their sexual tendencies, but who was he to judge someone’s preferences?

“Some people are idiots!”

“I had to go!” Jim said, crossing his arms, trying to play it off like it was Bones’ fault.

“And you just couldn’t wait? Or better yet, use the toilet that’s right outside the stall?”

“This is your fault. I always piss in the shower, and _you’re_ the one who came in and interrupted me before I had the chance.” Jim realized their voices were raised, both trying to speak over the sound of the streaming water, and over each other. He hoped to hell their voices didn’t carry into the corridor amplified by the acoustics in the stall. This discussion was not something his crew needed to be privy to.

“You _always_ piss in the shower?” Bones asked, turning up the left side of his mouth. “That’s disgusting. I wish I’d known this before we got married.”

“Would it have mattered?”

“It might, yes,” Leonard said, matching Jim’s stance of folded arms, feet shoulder width apart, and cock dangling between his legs, except Bones was shaking his head back and forth. “I can’t believe you just pissed on me.”

“We’re in the shower, Bones, and you’re a doctor! I’m sure worse things have happened to you. Besides, this is the one place you can clean it off immediately. No harm, no foul.”

“This is a shower, dammit! Not a urinal!”

“I had to go. You wouldn’t know it now,” Jim pointed to his flaccid cock, “but my little captain was jumping to attention, and I can’t piss when I’m hard, and can’t come when I need to piss.”

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” Leonard pushed him out of the way of the showerhead, standing directly underneath it. He soaped himself up quickly—paying careful attention to his feet—then extricated himself from the shower. “And don’t ever call your dick ‘captain’ again. Not if _this_ captain,” he jammed a finger into Jim’s chest, “ever wants to get laid again.”

“So, no shower sex, then?” Jim called out to him as he left the bathroom.

Bones responded with something, but it was muffled under the flow of water which was probably a good thing Jim didn’t hear it.

“You should know,” Jim called out as an afterthought, “I blow my nose in the shower, too! And I masturbate to the sound of your meretricious moaning playing on loop in my head!”

Looking down at his ‘little captain,’ Jim flicked it hoping for some kind of revival, but the captain seemed to be off duty. He let out a frustrated sigh, wondering how the morning had started out so horribly wrong, and hoped to hell it wasn't a forewarning for the rest of the day.

“Meretricious?” said a skeptical voice behind him.

“Jesus Christ, Bones!” Jim jumped, almost slipping in the shower. Bones had snuck up on him again. He was standing with his arms crossed and eyebrow raised, wearing a towel wrapped at his waist,

“That’s a big word for you, Jim.” Bones’ words were laced with sarcasm.

Jim’s heart was beating in his ears, but that never seemed to stop him. And then there was the sight of his half-naked husband with that playful scowl, which always did things to him. “Well, I’m a big guy.” Jim palmed himself, then bit his lower lip, hoping Bones would jump in the shower again. When Bones snorted, giving him a scathing look, Jim began to stroke himself to entice him further.

“You’re not that big.”

“Oh, but I am.” Jim resisted the urge to take his eyes off Bones' intense gaze, and instead, continued to stroke his length, giving it a few slight tugs.

“Is that so?”

“You’ve said as much a number of times.” Feeling himself grow hard underneath his hand, Jim gave Bones one of his devious smirks. It never took him long to perk back up when Bones looked at him with that hunger nestled in his hazel eyes.

“Jim, now that’s...” Bones said, his voice deep and low in that thick Southern accent which still drove Jim mad after all these years. Bones licked his lips, which was always a good sign, and the corners of Jim’s mouth turned up in victory. Shower sex was back on the menu. As Bones reached into the shower stall, Jim closed his eyes, waiting for those strong hands to touch him. He could feel the heat from Bones’ body hovering inches from his own, but Bones never touched him. Instead, his voice went an octave higher, coming out all in a rush. “...a load of meretricious codswallop!”

The water turned ice cold, and Jim let out a stream of expletives, diving to get away from the frigid water.

“Seems to me you need to cool off a bit, Jim,” Leonard said, laughing. “You looked a little flushed.” Bones rolled his eyes one last time for good measure, then left the bathroom chuckling. “Payback’s a bitch!”

 

After Jim spent a lonely time finishing up in the shower, he left the bathroom with a towel slung low around his hips. Bones was sitting on one of the stools in their small galley, enjoying his coffee like he did every morning. He had a PADD in front of him, but Jim could feel his eyes on him. Walking past him, Jim swiped Bones' mug, and carried it with him into their bedroom.

“Dammit, Jim! Every-single-goddamn-time.” He heard Bones get up, and he smiled at the sound of the machine brewing another coffee. He didn’t even take his coffee black like Bones did, but it had become his thing. He’d hardly admit he loved seeing the man ruffled and ornery, flying off the handle over the little things. It was a bearish Bones that always got Jim's blood pumping.

“Look at that, Bones. Seems Karma’s a bitch, too.”

“Can we call a truce, yet?”

“But we’re just getting started.”

“I’m too old for this shit, Jim. Please, let’s be done with it. You’re the captain for Christ’s sake.”

“Not right now, I’m not.”

“Jim…” Bones said in warning. “Let’s not go down this road again. We’re not at the Academy anymore. Do I need to remind you about the itch when your hair started growing back?”

Jim did remember that damn itch—right between his ass cheeks and underneath his balls. He had to suffer through a meeting with Admiral Barnett while it was growing back. He was shifting in his seat so much, shoving his hands in his cadet pants' pockets to get some relief, he swore the man thought he had crabs.

Bones had never looked so smug.

It was no secret Jim was a genius at prank wars. He could always catch Bones by surprise, but the human body was Leonard’s playground. Jim would never admit it—not to anyone—but when it came to war with Bones, Jim would lose _every single goddamn time_. Bones was a God amongst men when it came to tricking the body into thinking there was something seriously wrong. When Jim woke up one morning with one testicle the size of a grapefruit, and the other the size of a walnut, Bones had convinced him he had some deep space venereal disease, and the only cure from his inevitable death was castration. After that, Jim vowed never to take up arms against Bones ever again.

He shuddered, cupping his balls protectively. It still made him queasy thinking about lying on that biobed while the intern shaved him, prepping him for his fake surgery.

Bones truly was the prank God.

“Fine,” Jim huffed. “Truce.”

Jim pulled his formal uniform out of the closet, along with Bones’, and laid them carefully on the bed. This would be their attire for the next few days, and it might as well have been a noose if they were comparing comfort levels. Jim started the tedious task of getting dressed, then headed out to the living area with his jacket in hand.

“Your turn,” he said, thumbing toward the bedroom. Bones was smirking as he got up from his stool. He made his way over to Jim, slapping him on his ass as he leaned in for a kiss.

“A man in uniform,” Bones said, “there’s a saying about that, isn’t there?”

“I wear a uniform every day.” Jim scoffed, but returned the kiss anyway.

“Yeah, but not one this tight.”

“It’s not _that_ tight.”

Bones winked, and continued on his way to the bedroom. “Whatever you say.”

"I hate this," Jim whined, struggling to do up the buttons on his jacket.

“I know you do.”

"The jacket _is_ too tight."

"I told you to lay off the Risan desserts, but you told me it was our anniversary, and you were going to eat whatever you wanted."

"Are you saying I'm fat?"

"I'm saying that uniform hasn't shrunk since we left Earth two years ago. So, if you think it's too tight...you're the genius. Do the calculations."

"I can't believe you think I've gotten fat."

"Did those words come out of my mouth?"

"It's not what you're saying, Bones, it's what you're implying."

"Well, I'm implying you're whining over your own doing."

Jim looked in the mirror one last time, pulling at the edge of the stiff, formal uniform. He'd prefer to call the jacket form-fitting, not tight, and he was sure Bones would appreciate it later. He truly did hate wearing it, but not as much as Bones did. He would rub and tug, cursing every time he had to wear it. Speaking of which, the man had been pretty quiet since heading into the bedroom. Usually it was Bones moaning about the 'goddamn itch' the uniform gave him, but so far, he’d said nothing since he went in to change.

Jim had a sneaking suspicion about him, and sure enough, when he stepped around the divider to the bedroom, Bones was standing in his regular medical blues, rather than the formal jacket he’d laid out for him on the bed.

"Bones? Why aren't you changed? Don't make me pull rank, and order you out of that."

"Jim, most days I look forward to you ordering me out of my uniform, just not today." He brushed past him, heading back to their common living area. Jim followed, hot on his heels.

"You're required on the bridge, and then the hangar bay to meet with the party from Elas. The Dohlman is expecting you."

"Afraid I can't, Jim. I've got that appendix of Ensign Ruthers to take care of today. If I don’t, it's going to burst and that would be pointless extra work, and not to mention the pain for him."

“Is this about the golden shower?” Jim asked with a hint of incredulity.

“Yes, Jim. I’m that petty I’d blow off a diplomatic consort all because you pissed on me this morning.” Leonard rolled his eyes. “My God, man, sometimes the captain of the most powerful ship in Starfleet has the maturity of goddamn infant.”

“You do realize you just called me ‘man’ and ‘infant’ in the same sentence.”

Bones made a sound that leveled on frustration and disgust, and then finished it off with the raise of his eyebrow—which always made Jim feel more like a child than a decorated Starfleet Captain. That was what Bones did, though. He humbled him, and treated him no different, now, than he did over seven years ago on that first shuttle ride. His feelings were always somewhere between exasperation and admiration.

"Bones, you can't leave me alone with those people. It's an appendix. Can't you hypo him, and call it quits?"

"No, I can't, you moron. It doesn't work like that, not even with useless organs.”

“M’Benga can do it, can’t he? And you have a half dozen other capable doctors. You’re doing this on purpose.”

Leonard smiled, and folded his arms. “Maybe I am.”

“I could order you to attend this dinner.”

“Yes, you could, Captain, but unless you want to spend some quality time on this sofa,” Leonard patted the too-small-for-sleeping sofa, “you may wish to rethink that order.”

“This is mutiny.”

“Hardly.”

“As your husband it is.”

“You’ll be fine, you big baby. It’s a woman. If I seem to recall our Academy days, you were pretty adept at handling women in all shapes, sizes and creeds. Don’t tell me I’ve made you forget all that. I know I’m good, Jim, but not that good.”

“Why do I put up with you?”

“Because I’m the only one who’ll put up with you.” Leonard rested his arms on Jim’s shoulders, leaning in for kiss. “It’s one little princess. How much trouble could she be?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

“A ‘piece of Gorn cast-off space junk?'” Scotty was staring at Jim in disbelief. “Is that what she called my—our ship?"

Turned out, one little princess could be a whole lot of trouble. Or, at the least, one little princess was a spoiled brat who needed to be thrown over Jim's knee, and spanked until she started respecting him, his crew, and most importantly his ship.

"Un-bloody-believable. You’ve given her the best quarters we've got! I’ll have you know, Captain, I will no stand for these insults.”

“Scotty,” Jim sighed, gripping the Scot's arm before he went charging into the Dohlman's cabin, “let’s give _Her Glory_ some space, right now. She’s being married off by her people, and uprooted from everyone and everything she knows. She's bound to be a little miserable.”

“A _little_ miserable? I cannae imagine why they're so eager to be rid of her.” Scotty chuckled, shaking his head. “How a woman as beautiful as that Dohlman can be such a—”

“Careful, Scotty, she’s still our guest. Let’s not break any protocols, or cause any galactic incidents. Like one where we're both on trial for wringing the neck of a very important princess.”

“Aye, Captain,” Scotty said, crossing his arms. "But she did call me menial. _Me!_ ”

“She called me worse, I assure you,” Jim said. “We have four more days, then we can hand her over to the people of Troyius. She’ll be their problem.”

“I’ll set the engines to maximum warp, Captain. I’ll give her all she’s got.”

Jim smiled in relief, patting the man on his back. “Thank you, Mr. Scott. I’ll be on the bridge if you need me.”

As Jim headed toward the turbolift, he let his anger toward Elaan go. In four days—less if Scotty worked his magic—she would be a distant memory. Jim truly hated conversing with the wealthy and entitled, but this Dohlman was beyond anything he'd ever faced. He didn’t have the patience for her, nor did he have the constitution any longer. There was a time he might have thought of Elaan as a challenge, a major pain in the ass, but a challenge his ego would have been thrilled to accept. Things were different now, and the only thing his ego wanted was recognition from the one person who mattered.

Jim wondered how the encounter would've shaped up if Bones had been with him when they greeted the party. Bones' southern charm and hospitality might've pacified the lady, kept her somewhat amicable. Then again, if he knew Bones as well as he did, he would’ve been the one to bend Elaan over his knee to teach her a few good lessons in McCoy hospitality.

“Captain on ze bridge,” Chekov called out as the turbolift doors opened. Spock rose from the captain’s chair, still in his formal attire, and handed off command.

“Is the Dohlman resting in her quarters?” Spock asked.

“She is.” Jim sat down, crossing his legs. “Believe me, if I could lock her in I would.”

Spock tilted his head, and if Jim didn’t know any better he might have mistaken it for sympathy.

“Elasians seem most irrational, Captain. More so than humans.”

“You think?” Jim rolled his eyes.

“I do.”

“Well, maybe you should take over the diplomatic duties, Mr. Spock. I’m sure she'll appreciate your logic.”

Spock nodded, placing his hands behind his back. “As you wish, Captain. Although, I do not see how my logic will benefit someone so…” he paused a moment “...illogical.”

Jim waved his hand in dismissal at Spock. “Relax, Spock. I wouldn’t pawn her off on you. _Her Glory_ is my responsibility. I command this ship, and all those on it.” He glanced down to his hand, and the visible teeth marks where Elaan had bit him earlier. Spock had been witness to that kerfuffle, and this time he did see sympathy in the Vulcan’s eyes—possibly a first.

“Perhaps Dr. McCoy could be of assistance.”

“Perhaps,” Jim said and smiled, “or I might change course to the neutral system, and hope a Klingon ship finds us to put us out of our misery.” Spock made a motion to argue the logic behind Jim’s statement, but then he thought twice about it.

“Indeed,” he said simply, and headed to his station instead.

"Mr. Chekov," Jim said, just as the doors to the bridge whistled open. "Set a course for Troyius. Mr. Sulu, warp factor six."

"Aye-aye, sir."

"In a hurry, Jim?" Dr. McCoy set foot on the bridge, standing behind the Captain with his hands behind his back.

"You have no idea, Bones." He smiled at the man, relief clearly showing on his face just by Bones' presence.

"Why so negative? I read the mission details." Bones held a huge grin on his face. "I thought Elasian women were supposed to be very special, that they hold some kind of subtle, mystical power that drives men wild." Bones bounced on his heels, quirking his eyebrow suggestively.

"Mystical power, Bones? I thought you were a man of science, not to mention happily married."

"One can always appreciate a beautiful specimen, Jim."

"You can appreciate _Her Glory_ all you want at dinner tonight. You _will_ be joining us, and that's an order."

"An order I'm happy to follow, Captain." Bones laughed, seeking out the opinion of Uhura. "She can't be that bad, can she?"

"I'll refrain from answering that while on duty, Doctor," Uhura said. "But come see me after my shift, and I'd be happy to tell all. Including how the Captain got those bite marks on his hand."

"She bit you?" Bones reached for his hand, but Jim waved him away.

"It's fine. She didn't break skin."

"What did you do to deserve that?"

"What makes you think I did anything?"

"On this occasion," Spock interjected, "I must defend the Captain's actions. The Elasian's are rather impetuous."

"In my experience, when it comes to Jim, most women are, Mr. Spock."

"Don't you have a patient to check on, Dr. McCoy?"

"As a matter of fact, Jim, I don't. Ruthers is recovering nicely. Should be back on his feet in a few hours."

"How convenient for you. Is there something you needed?"

"Not particularly. Just wanted to see if the rumors were true."

"What rumors?"

Bones leaned close to whisper in Jim's ear. "The one that's circulating about you threatening to spank a princess." Jim felt his face flush, and avoided meeting Bones' eyes. Bones leaned in even closer, lowering his voice further. "Should I be jealous? You've never threatened me like that."

For a brief moment, shock registered on Jim's face. He quickly recovered, looking to the bridge crew to see if they might have heard Bones. Everyone knew about their relationship, but it didn't mean they needed to _know_ about their relationship. It wasn't often the good doctor teased him, especially so publicly, which meant Bones must have had a good day on the operating table, and that meant Jim would surely benefit from it later tonight.

He hadn't expected that playful banter to come out of Bones' mouth, and when he met his gaze, it was filled with mockery but a hint of truth. Thoughts of their recent vacation to Risa crossed Jim's mind, and he felt the heat travel from his face down the length of his body. Perhaps _Her Glory_ hadn't ruined his day completely.

Before Jim could think of something witty to respond with, Bones stood straight, pulling down the hem of his shirt. "I suppose I should check on Ruthers."

"Duty calls, Doctor." He tried to speak with a bit of aplomb, but they both knew he wasn't fooling anyone, and definitely not the crew.

Bones winked at him, and then turned to leave the bridge.

Jim swiveled in his chair, admiring the view as he walked away. _Goddamn that man._ And if Uhura caught him ogling the doctor's backside, Jim simply chose to ignore her smirk.

=/\=

At the end of his shift, Jim left the bridge in search of Bones. Thankfully, he hadn’t heard directly from _Her Glory_ since he escorted her to her ‘grand’ quarters. Instead, he was forced to answer countless, ridiculous demands from the Elasian ambassador. Jim was still in a foul mood, but he was determined to let Bones and his cock give him the boost he needed to get through dinner with the Dohlman. He would suffer through the evening with her and her entourage, with Bones by his side, and hopefully some of the bourbon he kept tucked away in his office.

_Bridge to Captain._

He heard the hail just as he exited the turbolift, and made his way to the nearest console.

“Kirk here.”

 _Captain,_ Uhura’s voice came over the speaker, _it seems the Dohlman has left her quarters. The ambassador is...concerned._

“Computer, locate the visiting dignitary from Elas.”

_The Dohlman is currently in Medical Bay One._

“I’m headed there right now, Lieutenant. Tell the ambassador I’ll have her escorted back to her quarters. Kirk out.”

As Jim headed toward the med bay, he felt torn between panic and amusement at the idea of the Dohlman invading Bones' territory. He double-timed it to the med bay, hoping Bones hadn’t started that galactic incident he was afraid of. If she had spoken to him like she had to Jim and Scotty, Bones probably had her heavily sedated, lying on a biobed.

Come to think of it, that might not be a bad idea. He'd just have to convince Spock and the Ambassador it was for the safety of the Dohlman.

As he entered through the doors, he feared the latter of his worries might have come true. The med bay was empty, which was unusual, since Bones had a team of trusted nurses and doctors working all hours of every shift, in all three med bays. Unless Bones had closed this bay down for a reason, there should have been patients and staff buzzing about.

"Bones?" he called out, then followed it up with something more formal. "Dr. McCoy?" He rounded the corner to Bones' office then stopped dead in his tracks.

"What the hell is this?" Jim's voice was a few octave's too high, but it was understandable considering where his husband's hands were located, and where his lips were hovering.

Bones didn’t even have the gall to jump away, as though Jim hadn't come upon him _in flagrante delicto_. He kept his hands wrapped around the princess' waist, and if Jim didn’t know any better, Bones moved slightly in front of her, like he was protecting her.

"Jim. Good, you're here," Bones said, like Jim had just joined them for a medical consult, only this consult was something you'd find in a racy film. Sure, they were both still fully clothed—if those tiny short-shorts were what the princess was calling clothes—but Bones never touched anyone unless he had a tricorder in hand.

"Good?"

"Listen,” Bones said, all serious. “I think you and I need to have a talk.”

“I would say so.” Jim kept his eyes on Bones’ hands, which were still resting above _Her Glory’s_ backside. “Would you mind removing your hands from the royalty?”

“He has permission to touch me,” Elaan replied in a cold, clipped voice.

“Well, he doesn’t have mine!”

“Don’t raise your voice at her, Jim.”

“ _Don’t raise my_ —Bones! What the hell is going on?”

“I'll ask you to refrain from that kind of talk in front of the lady."

Jim didn't miss the conniving smile on the Dohlman's face. Scratch the erotic film, Jim had just stepped into an alternate reality; he was sure of it.  

After a few silent beats, it all became clear. Jim relaxed his shoulders, leaning against the biobed, and folded his arms.

"I knew it!" Jim said, as he started to laugh. "I knew you were still pissed off about what happened this morning. Very funny, Bones, but you should stick to the medical pranks. You're not very good at lying."

"This isn't a joke, Jim."

"I have to admit, you had me for a second, especially with your hands all over the princess—that was a nice touch by the way."

" _Captain,_ " Bones said, his voice hard and unwavering. "I assure you, this is no joke."

"Bones, come on." Unfolding his arms, Jim stood up straight to face the two of them. "Drop the charade. You're the one who wanted the truce. It was a nice try, though. You realize this means the truce is over, and I'm going to have to reciprocate."

"Captain Kirk," Elaan interrupted, "your presence is an offense to me. Leave us." She waved her hand in dismissal, which Jim caught, even though his eyes had stayed firmly fixed on Bones.

Jim was getting irritated now. All hope of some stress relief from Bones had left along with his patience for this woman.

"I'm all for practical jokes," Jim said in warning, "but this has gone on long enough. It's now toeing the line. Let's not cross it."

"I will not be humiliated by your impudence. I said, 'leave us!'" Elaan demanded again.

 _His impudence?_ Jim couldn't believe his ears, and the fact that Bones hadn't broken his act was irritating him. Bones was always up for a prank, but the disrespect the Dohlman was showing him wasn't something Bones would stand by and let happen…even if this was his own stunt.

"Jim, please," Bones finally had the nerve to speak up, "you must honor—"

 _Bridge to Captain_.

He was interrupted, and Jim couldn't help but think the chime had saved Bones. Jim wasn't going to like what was about to come out of his mouth, and it would be something they would both regret.

"Kirk here," he said, turning his back to them so he could hide his unease.

 _Captain,_ _our sensors are picking up a fluctuation, some kind of sensor ghost._

"Equipment malfunction?"

_Negative, Captain. All instruments have been checked and confirmed._

"On my way, Spock." Jim raised his chin toward Bones, waiting a few breaths for Bones to smile, and admit his failure with the prank. But instead, Bones seemed determined. Jim knew his husband, and when something got a hold of Bones, he didn't let it go easily. There was something more to this, but Jim didn't have the time or the patience to deal with the royal terror. He would discuss this with Bones in the privacy of their quarters.

"Bones, I'm going to walk away now, not because _Her Glory_ demands it, but because I'm giving you some time to sort yourself out. I don't know where you're going with this, but since you seem eager to teach the Dohlman new things, perhaps you can teach her the fine art of Southern courtesies before she joins us for dinner."

And with that, Jim left the med bay, wondering for the second time that day, how things had turned out so horribly wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

“Captain on ze bridge!”

No matter how many times the young ensign insisted on announcing it every time Jim stepped on the bridge, he would never get tired of hearing it. Something so simple as that acknowledgement always made him smile inside, even when he was in the foulest of moods. Usually it softened whatever irritation was currently scratching inside of him, but nothing was remedying the current dark mass hovering around him, nor did it help to alleviate the steadily growing pounding in his head.

Without addressing anyone in particular, Jim sat in his chair, barking out demands for reports. The bridge crew hesitated, giving him the slightest of concerned faces, then jumped into action before their captain could growl again.

“Our sensors have picked up an anomaly, Captain. It seems to be some kind of faint energy signature trailing behind the Enterprise.”

Jim contemplated this information for a few moments, making the crew wait for his orders. There were a number of things that could mess with the ship's sensors. In the past two years, the Enterprise had experienced her fair share of bizarre adventures, and unexplained alien life forms, that 'ghost sensors' seemed rather tame. However, Jim had done enough research on this particular kind of anomaly, that his gut was telling him what it might be that was messing with the readings.

“Onscreen, Mr. Sulu.”

The screen in front of them flashed to display thousands of stars, and nothing else but black, just the way Jim liked it. Keeping silent, he stared into the blackness of space, looking for anything that might hint there was something following them. There was nothing, of course, but it didn’t stop him from looking.

"Any guesses, Mr. Spock?"

Spock raised a questioning eyebrow. "Vulcans never speculate. Due to insufficient information, I do not have an analysis for you at this time, Captain."

"Well, _you_ may not hazard a guess, but I've had enough with games today." Jim swiveled back in his chair.

"Your 'guesses' _have_ had their advantages on occasion."

"Mr. Sulu," Jim said, "one hundred and eighty degrees starboard."

"Turning, Captain."

"Impulse drive, speed factor point zero two three."

"Aye-aye, Captain."

"Now we wait. Let's see if they show themselves."

"They?"

"Yes, Mr. Chekov."

"Cloaking device?" Sulu asked.

"That's my guess."

Within a few seconds, the outline of a ship materialized, taking up the entire view screen. The twin hull configuration, and the forward command center of the ship, stretching out like a head on a long thin neck, made it easy to recognize. The so-called pair of wings attached to the hull gave the ship an appearance of a bird-of-prey, which was the more common name for the Klingon warship.

All members of the crew straightened in their chairs, shoulders tense and waiting for action.

"Shields up," Jim said. "Hail the ship, Lieutenant. Identify us, and ask the Klingons why they're so intent on following us."

"Hailing all frequencies."

"Mr. Spock, is there anything particularly unique to this star system that would be of interest to the Klingons?"

"My research did not find anything unusual, Captain."

Uhura interjected, "No response from the Klingons, Sir."

Jim paused a moment, tapping his fingers on the console of his chair, muttering under his breath. "Why the devil are they here?" No one heard him, or at least they didn't acknowledge they did, but everyone waited for his next command. They were counting on him, all nine hundred and seventy-two souls on this ship, and even though he knew this, he also knew his mind was partially distracted by the earlier events of the day. He couldn't afford to lose focus, not right now, and even though he'd never admit it, confrontations with Klingon ships left Jim energized, if not slightly aroused. This is what space was about, not chaperoning ungrateful princesses who are to be married off to another race. Any other day, Jim would welcome this rogue Klingon ship, but something about the timing of their appearance was inherently wrong.

"How long have they been following us, Mr. Spock?"

"I cannot determine the exact moment, Captain."

"Since Elas?"

"It is possible."

"Hail them again, Lieutenant. I want to know what their intentions are."

"Captain," Sulu said. "Their shields are up, but their phasers are not armed."

A starship could not fire upon a potential hostile unless fired upon first. Jim didn't need Spock to remind him of the rules of engagement, even though the Vulcan seemed compelled to do so. There had been no response from the Klingons, nor had they armed their weapons. Twenty minutes had passed, and they were still in some kind of Mexican stand-off, except Jim had no idea what the stakes were. His history with the Klingon Empire wasn't exactly a passive one, and this lack of conflict was new territory for him.

He waited a few minutes longer to see if the ship changed their course of action, or made any demands, but Jim's patience had worn thin.

"Mr. Sulu, turnabout. Continue course for Troyius," Jim said, standing up. "Phaser crews stand by. Maintain yellow alert." He headed toward the turbolift doors. "Mr. Spock, you have the conn. I'll be in my ready room."

It probably wasn't the best course of action, but he still had a mission to complete. The wedding was four days away, and he had to get Elaan to Troyius to begin the peace talks between the two nations.

As soon as the door to his ready room slid shut, the silence engulfed him, which only seemed to amplify the pounding in his head he'd been failing to ignore. On any other occasion, he would go to Bones to get a quick fix, but he wasn't ready to see him again, so he would suffer through this on his own for a bit. He'd been through worse.

This day just wasn't getting any better.

Sitting down, he pressed his hands to the surface of his desk, feeling the smooth metal composite underneath his palms. He was never one of those people with sweaty palms, or clammy skin. His hands were dry, his fingers long, and strong, and he often wondered if they looked at all like his father's.

He hadn't thought of his father in a very long time. He was more apt to think of Pike in times like these, rather than his father. That man was more of a father to him in four short years, than he'd ever had his entire life. He should have been thinking about Pike, but it was George Kirk who filled his thoughts at this moment. His father never had the chance to be a Captain, to make rational decisions without the threat of death hanging over him and his ship. What kind of captain would George have been? What would he have done in times of relative peace?

These were the kinds of questions he would discuss with Bones, lying in their bed like so many other nights. Bones was the one person who understood Jim's need to talk about a man he never met. Not because he could relate to Jim, but because Bones had grown up with the kind of father Jim had always wished upon the stars for. All those summer nights, lying in open air surrounded by corn fields and looking up to the stars, Jim longed for a man who never got to prove his worth as a husband, and a father.

When others shied away from mentions of George, Bones dug deep, getting to the core of Jim's regard for his father. Others talked about George's bravery and his sacrifice, and what a good and selfless man he was, but not Bones. He knew those were the last things Jim needed to hear. He let Jim be angry when he needed to be angry, and most of the times Jim didn't even know where the anger was coming from. And then there were those milestones where Jim would turn melancholy for no apparent reason when he should have been celebrating his latest achievement. Bones would simply squeeze his hand, and whisper in his ear so only he could hear, "He'd be proud, Jim."

Jim was twenty-seven, a captain before his time, and now a husband. He wondered if his father would have been able to do both. A captain, a husband and a father, would George have sacrificed one to excel at another? Possibly. Which would George have chosen? Would Jim have to choose, and if so, which one? Could he be a captain and a husband? These were thoughts that plagued him over and over, every time he had to make a difficult decision.

"Captain's log, Stardate 2260.73. On a top secret diplomatic mission, the Enterprise has entered the Tellun star system. Maintaining communications blackout, we have taken aboard the Dohlman, from the inner planet, Elas, and are on our way to the outer planet, Troyius. Upon leaving the planet we have discovered a Klingon warship trailing behind the Enterprise. Hailing frequencies are open, however the Klingons have not responded. They have not engaged the Enterprise in anyway. Explanation as to why they are following us is unknown at present. We are maintaining our course to Troyius."

Jim lifted the button on the communicator, pressing his fingers to his temples to relieve some of the pressure. His stomach was acting up as well, and the bellyaches only happened when unexplained things started adding up. He preferred action and consequences, and would happily leave the mysteries to Spock, but something about this mission wasn't making sense. And then there was the matter of Bones and his strange behavior…

Reluctantly, Jim pressed the log button again.

"Captain's _personal_ log, Stardate 2260.73. The Dohlman of Elas has proven to be rather…difficult," Jim began, then cleared his throat. "While she is our honored guest, there are some liberties I'm not willing to concede. Namely ones where princesses get to do and say whatever they desire. I've confined her to her quarters, mostly to save my crew from her abuse. I'm observing all diplomatic protocols, but I refuse to be subjected to her impetuous nature." He took a sip of his water, wondering if he should continue with this entry. Did he want to put Bones' behavior on record? If it was any other crewmember, he wouldn't think twice about it, but this was Bones…his husband. And as far as he was concerned, this was nothing more than a practical joke that had horribly failed.

 _Captain_. Uhura's voice interrupted his thoughts before he could make any decisions.

"Yes, Lieutenant."

 _Captain, I’ve received a message from the Ambassador_ , Uhura said, pausing and Jim could hear the hesitation in her voice. _The Dohlman does not wish to attend the dinner planned for this evening._

He wasn't sure why Uhura wasn't more forthcoming with this information; this was the best news he'd heard since _Her Glory_ had arrived.

 _She has requested dinner in her quarters…_ Uhura paused once again. _...for two._

“Two?” Jim sat up straight. “And who will be joining _Her Glory_?”

_Dr. McCoy._

That was it. Jim was getting to the bottom of this, once and for all.

=/\=

Stepping through the door to their quarters, he stopped short, just beyond the threshold. On any normal day, Bones had the ability to take Jim's breath away. A simple, rare smile, or the casual touch at the base of his spine as they walked toward the turbolift, Bones could always rouse Jim no matter how collected he thought he was. And if Bones actually put forth an effort, like wearing a formal uniform and fixing his hair, Bones had the ability to make Jim weak in the knees.

Jim reached for the wall to hold himself up. Awestruck by the site of the man adjusting his uniform in the mirror, Jim didn't trust himself to speak.

"Jim, good you're here," Bones said, turning. "How do I look?"

Closing his mouth, shaking his head a little, he managed to say something. "How do you—for what?"

"Dinner with Her Glory."

Jim couldn't get Bones to wear that godforsaken formal uniform this morning, but he seemed to have no issues with donning the straightjacket for his dinner with The Dohlman. And then there was the stupid-ass grin on Bones' freshly shaven face.

"You look like a married man going on a date with someone other than his husband."

"This isn't a date, Jim."

"It's not? I remember a time when we had private dinners in _my_ quarters, and maybe they weren't what you would call a date, but they sure ended like one."

"That was different." Bones waved him off.

"How?" Jim asked, crossing his arms. "Please, enlighten me."

"Well, you're _you_ , for one thing. And Her Glory, well she's…she's to be treated with respect and honor. She's a remarkable woman."

"Mmhmm," Jim grunted, choosing to ignore the dig about esteem. Jim called Elaan 'Her Glory' as well, but he didn't exactly say it with dreamy eyes, and a schoolboy smile. He took a step closer to Bones, a scent of something familiar luring him in. Inhaling deeply, he recognized what was lingering in the air around Bones.

"Are you wearing cologne? You _never_ wear cologne, and that's mine by the way."

"I borrowed some. Figured you wouldn't mind."

"Well, I do mind, and why exactly are you wearing cologne for your dinner with Elaan? And more importantly, why are you having dinner in her quarters?"

"She asked me."

"Oh, I see. And if I asked you not to go?"

"Jim, I can't exactly turn down an invitation from Her Glory."

"Enough with the 'Her Glory' crap! What is that, anyway?"

"That's her title. She's earned it, and like I said, she's a remarkable woman. Quite beautiful, don't you think?"

"What has gotten into you?"

"What do you mean?" Bones looked mildly affronted, a slight scowl on his brow, but nowhere near his usual glower.

"Can we drop this?" Jim said, taking another step closer. "I can't tell if you're being serious or not. Do you want me to admit you got me? Okay, I admit it, Bones. You got me; bound, gagged and rolled over a barrel. You win this round, and every round ever to come again. Let's stop this nonsense. Talk to me like normal." He reached for Bones' hand, holding it in his own, giving it a gentle squeeze. His other hand came to wrap around Bones' waist, pulling him toward him. As his lips made a trail up the side of Bones' neck, Jim took the opportunity to revel in the scent of him. He smelled of Iowa. Cool winters, mixed with the earth, and a hint of tobacco, like his grandfather's pipe.

Bones smelled like home, and always would to Jim.

It was the end of the day, so the stubble on Bones' jaw should have been prominent. The man was a bear, and unless he shaved twice a day, Jim had to suffer through the chafe to get what he wanted. But Bones had shaved for the second time today, closer than his usual blade, like he'd gotten it professionally done, so his skin was smooth and conditioned. As he kissed his way up Bones' jawline, he tasted as he went, pausing each time to say a few words.

"I've got a Klingon warship trailing us for no apparent reason, a diplomatic mission that's a waking nightmare, and I've got a splitting headache that won't go away." His lips connected with Bones', and he made sure to taste more of him before pulling back. All he could think about was leading Bones toward the bedroom, but he stubbornly resisted Jim's attempts.

"A Klingon warbird is trailing us, and you want to have sex right now?" Bones pulled away, pushing Jim's hands down. "Dammit, Jim. You're unbelievable, you know that?"

"Why? Because I need you, Bones?" Jim asked, starting to feel affronted. There was a fight brewing, a crackle in the air was warning him to let it go, but too many bad things had piled up today for him to drop this. "So, I'm pathetic because I want a little help from you to get me through this."

"I never called you pathetic. Your words, not mine." Bones rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"Yeah, but you sure implied it." Taking a deep breath, Jim counted to himself like Pike had taught him when his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. He was brash and quick to react, something Pike always warned him about, and he had instructed Jim to use his head more than his heart. The problem with that was when it came to Bones, he only knew how to use his heart.

"Bones, please talk to me. Tell me what I've done to upset you. How can I fix this? Hours ago we were fine. You were flirting with me, for Christ's sake, and undressing me with your eyes on the bridge. Now you won't even let me touch you."

Searching for recognition in Bones' eyes, he waited for him to say something, to confess to anything, but the waiting was a few breaths too long. Jim didn't want to admit it, wouldn't admit it, but in that moment his heart seemed to break into a thousand pieces. He was a captain, and here he was being reduced to an insecure adolescent about to get his heart broken for the first time. If this was what rejection felt like, it had been far too long since he'd experienced it to recognize it.

"Jim," Bones said. He had sighed his name so many times, Jim should have been used to it by now. However, this time, there was a hint of something Jim had never heard before today. Apathy, like Bones didn't care enough to continue this conversation. It only took that one sigh, and for the first time, Jim felt a hint of something new with Bones. Doubt, like it was wiggling it's way inside of him, wrapping its conquering black tendrils around his heart, and starting the slow squeeze before crushing completely.

Bones took hold of his hand, and Jim tried to draw strength from the warmth and softness in those long fingers. Even though it was a natural thing for Bones to do, something felt off in the intimacy of the act. It didn't feel like it was done out of love, more out of pacification. "There's a lot going on, right now," Bones said. "We can continue this later. I just need to make sure The Dohlman is taken care of. That's the mission, and it's taking precedence at the moment. I'm the only one who can do it."

"Why you?" Jim's voice was hard and unyielding.

"Because she asked me." Bones blinked once, then twice, and gave nothing further for an explanation.

"That's not a good enough reason, Bones. Not for why you're acting the way you're acting."

"I'm sorry," Bones said, and again, Jim felt the distance between them. "When this is all over we'll spend some time together." Smiling, like he would at a child, Bones gave him a chaste kiss on the lips. "Do you think we need to evacuate the Dohlman? Is the ship in danger?"

Jim didn't have the will to continue this conversation, partially because he couldn't believe it was happening. His head was still pounding, and this was only making it worse. He couldn't argue with Bones about this any longer, or he would say things that would drive him away further. Maybe Bones was right. Once the mission was over, they would get back to the way things were, and if Bones could appease the Dohlman into some sort of charitable behavior, perhaps this was all worth it. The crew would thank him for it, even if he would be the one to suffer for the next four days.

"The ship's not in any immediate danger, no," Jim said, squeezing his temples again.

"Look, Jim, I gotta go. I should let her know what's happening. Warn her." It was said with an apology behind it, but nothing more. "We okay?"

Jim could only nod. "Sure, Bones. Yeah, you go. I'm good. We're good."

Jim said the words even though he was far from feeling good about anything happening in his life right now.


	4. Chapter 4

Jim wasn’t one to wallow or feel sorry for himself. At a young age, he learned it was pointless, since most of the time there was no one around to give a damn about his melancholy moods, and a pity party for one wasn't that much fun. So, he soldiered on, forging ahead through his disappointments, and never really letting things get to him. He built up a pretty strong wall, one that helped him keep people at bay so he never had to suffer through life's little setbacks. It allowed him to convince people he was invincible, impervious to feelings, and helped create that charismatic, carefree reputation.

It was good while it lasted.

But then Bones had come barreling into the shuttle that day, kicking and screaming, and clawing at Jim’s walls. He’d successfully managed to tear a few cinder blocks down, until Jim eventually let them crumble, allowing himself to feel again. The walls were gone now, and in their place stood something more like guardrails. They couldn’t stop the emotional hits, they could only buffer them, but it didn’t matter all that much, not since Bones had made those silent promises to Jim, to stand in front of him, and shield him from anything that might get through his weakened defenses. Bones was the one who let Jim be Jim, but that also meant he was the only one who knew how to hurt him.

For the first time in a very long time, Jim felt like he'd taken a spear to the heart. And if there was one thing Jim abhorred, it was feeling vulnerable. Too long had he fought for his independence and his place in this world, he couldn't go back to being that smart-ass kid who did stupid, rash things for attention. He needed to be an adult this time around, even though everything inside him was screaming otherwise. He would approach this new predicament in a well-thought-out and rational state of mind. At least that’s what he told himself heading toward medbay two, instead of chasing after Bones and picking another fight.

First step to normalcy was getting rid of the jackhammer inside his head, maybe then his composure wouldn't feel so forced. Even the sound of the doors sliding open caused a severe twinge behind his eyes.

Other than a few patients and staff scattered around the room, it was fairly quiet and serene. Dr. Geoffrey M’Benga was hunched over a slide, examining a questionable sample, while Christine Chapel was busy stocking supplies on the far side of the room. Both looked up as he walked through the doors, and if he saw a hint of pity in their eyes, he brushed it off.

“Captain,” M’Benga greeted him. “What can I help you with?”

“Hey, Doc,” Jim said, sidling up beside him. “I’ve got a splitting headache. Can you give me something for it?” He pressed his thumb and forefinger to his eyes, trying to relieve some of the pressure.

“Should I call Dr. McCoy?” Everyone on the ship knew Bones had first right of refusal when it came to Jim's health, and by not involving Bones in decisions for Jim's treatment, they risked inviting his wrath. And Bones' wrath tended to linger a long time.

“No need. It’s fine. Nothing serious, just need it to go away.”

Jim knew Christine was eyeing him, cataloging everything he was saying and doing, even how he was trying to appear aloof by leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. He could never avoid her scrutiny, especially if he came to the medbay when Bones was nowhere in sight.

“Have a seat,” M’Benga said.

“Really, Doc,” Jim said, “just need a shot, and I’ll be fine.”

“All right, but why don’t you have a seat anyway while Chapel gets you what you need.” M’Benga and Christine exchanged a quick glance—which also didn’t go unnoticed by Jim—before Christine turned to the supply cabinet, and prepared a hypospray to remedy his headache.

Jim reluctantly sat on the biobed, his legs dangling over the edge, watching M’Benga adjust the controls on the screen.

“How long have you had the headache?”

“Don’t know,” Jim shrugged, “a few hours, maybe?”

M’Benga shined a light in his eyes, making him flinch from the brightness and sharp pain it caused.

M’Benga was looking at him with a frown, but Christine carried a wry smile as she walked toward them. “It wouldn’t coincide with the arrival of a certain woman with a bit of an attitude problem, would it?” she asked.

Jim snorted. “Lucky guess.”

“From what I hear, she’s a mighty piece of work.” Christine was fishing. He’d known her long enough to know when she was biting back her strong opinion about current gossip on the ship. She was also rather protective of Bones, which made her good people, but a little annoying when it came to the two of them. She usually sided with her mentor in all things, and as Captain, he shouldn't have to compete with his CMO, even if said CMO was his significant other.

“Spit it out, Christine.”

“Me? I’ve never even met the woman.” She smiled again, holding up the hypospray for M’Benga.

“Then what have you heard?”

“Oh, the usual,” she said. “Nothing you haven’t experienced firsthand anyway. Scotty was cursing up a storm at lunch, and then of course there was that incident in medbay one.”

“What incident?” Jim asked.

Hearing the biobed alarm sensors picking up, M’Benga cleared his throat. “I need you to relax, Captain, or that headache isn’t going anywhere. Your blood pressure is elevated,” M’Benga said.

“I’m sure it is,” Jim mumbled under his breath.

“Maybe you should save the idle gossip for another time, Christine.”

Christine’s cheeks flushed a soft pink. She cleverly avoided looking at Jim by tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.  “Maybe you should talk to Leonard,” Christine offered.

“ _Maybe_ you should just tell me,” Jim said with his jaw clenched tight, which only caused the throbbing in his temples to amplify. Swallowing a few times, he took some deep breaths, hoping to calm himself so M'Benga didn't get trigger happy and order a full work up. He had a feeling his fight with Bones had made its way through the ship, and the current topic of conversation was who was in the wrong.  Jim was no stranger to ship rumors. He never entertained them, but Uhura usually kept him abreast of any situations that needed his attention. Almost a thousand souls on his ship, and in close quarters, there was bound to be talk. He allowed most of it as long as it didn’t get in the way of duties. He and Bones had a fair share directed their way when they announced their relationship, but being the target of these latest whispers irked Jim more than any other time they'd been in the crosshairs.

“What incident?” Jim repeated, ignoring M’Benga’s suggestion.

“Well,” Christine bit her lip, “it’s just...I’ve never heard the nurses go on like this before. We all know Leonard’s an ornery cuss, that’s part of his charm." He heard the fondness she had for the man in her voice. "He snaps at people, and takes a few strips off the ignorant ones. Keeps everyone on their toes. But he’s never gone off the rails like he did earlier."

"What did he do?"

"Christine—" M'Benga adjusted a few things on the screen, but Jim held up his hand.

"I'm fine, Doc. Really." Jim leveled a stare at Christine that told her she should continue with her story—and quickly.

"A few hours ago, Leonard ordered everyone out of the medbay, patients included," she volunteered. "It just wasn’t like him. He would never move patients unnecessarily, not unless there was an emergency.”

“And there wasn’t?”

“No. One minute he was checking on Ruthers' post-op, and the next, he was ordering everyone to be transported down here to medbay two.”

“You weren’t there?” It was a valid question. Wherever Bones worked, Christine was usually within arm’s reach. He didn’t like to be too far from his head nurse.

“I was helping with the resupplies from DS4. Leonard doesn’t trust anyone else to stock the cabinets.”

"Was the medbay compromised in any way? Did something happen?"

"That's just it, nothing as far as we can tell. I asked Scotty to check the environmental controls, but he said all the readings appeared normal. I can only assume the Dohlman was in need of some medical attention, and wanted privacy?"

"This happened when the Dohlman came in?"

"According to the nurses, she came into the medbay, demanding attention, throwing a bit of temper tantrum when no one did as she asked."

"Doesn't seem that far-fetched," Jim muttered as he held out his arm for M'Benga. The hypospray didn’t even hurt when it went in, then again, it never did with M’Benga. Jim didn’t know what Bones did differently, but he always seemed to give it that extra bit of gusto when he treated him.

"She was yelling at everyone, saying she wasn't getting the respect she deserved, and that nobody would listen to her.  Claimed she was being humiliated, and then called everyone some kind of beast, probably likened to Earth's version of a pig."

"Yeah, that sounds like her."

"I guess Dr. McCoy had just about enough of her tantrum, and yelled back. The two were in quite a bit of a heated argument. Both tempers were off the charts, drawing a lot of interest, and not to mention disturbing the patients. I believe he threatened to, 'knock her so hard, she'd see tomorrow today.'"

"That sounds like Bones."

"The next thing you know, she started to cry, and wouldn't stop. She was still screaming at Dr. McCoy, though, throwing insults his way between her sobs. So, he grabbed hold of her arm, told her, 'if she didn't stop crying, he'd give her something to really cry about!' Then he dragged her into his office and shut the door."

Jim's gut did a little jump at the idea of Bones and that woman in his office behind closed doors. He didn't trust her, not at all, and with the Klingon ship trailing them since Elas, it was with good reason. If their private conversation had lead to the compromising position he had discovered them in earlier, he could only imagine how they’d gone from a public screaming match to their own tête-à-tête.

"Then what?" he forced himself to ask.

Christine shrugged. "I don't know. Minutes after they went into his office, Dr. McCoy came out and ordered everyone out of the medbay. Everyone, except the Dohlman."

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“You sure nothing else happened?”

“I wasn’t there, but if I was, I would’ve knocked her—”

“I’m sure you would have, Christine.” Jim patted her arm affectionately, stopping her short before she finished that statement. Bones might have been her favorite, but Jim knew where he stood with Christine, and he was pretty high up on her list, enough that she felt the need to white knight their relationship.

This new piece of information didn't offer anything to the bigger picture, only added to Jim's confusion. Whatever the Dohlman had done to Bones behind those closed doors, had changed him, and he was going to find out what the hell was going on.

He squeezed his temples again, trying to alleviate the pain.

"Your headache should've subsided by now, Captain." M'Benga was still frowning at him, but before he could order Jim to stay put, or more importantly, before he could call Bones, Jim jumped off the biobed and thanked them both as he headed out the doors.

=/\=

"Computer, locate the Dohlman."

_The visiting dignitary from Elas is currently in her guest quarters._

"Computer, locate Dr. Leonard McCoy."

_Dr. McCoy is currently in his personal quarters._

Jim strode with purpose, garnering as much courage as he could, burying the choking feeling burning its way through his throat. His tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of his mouth, so dry, like the time he'd been stuck on that desert planet in the Gamma quadrant during a sandstorm. He needed some water…or a stiff drink.

As he rounded the corner, he caught Bones by surprise, exiting their quarters.

"Where are you going? What's all that?" Jim pointed to the two duffel bags in Bones' hands.

"Jim," he said, frowning. "I was hoping to take care of this before you got back."

"Take care of what?"

Bones sighed, setting the two bags on the floor. "Now look, I know this seems sudden, but it's the right thing to do. I'm moving back into my old quarters. Well, actually, M'Benga's old quarters since he took mine."

Whatever Bones was saying, wasn't truly registering with Jim. Perhaps it was the headache, or the shot M'Benga had given him, but everything seemed a little fuzzy. "You turned that into a research lab."

"There's still a bed and a head, it’ll be fine, temporarily."

"How temporarily?"

"Until we reach Troyius." Bones slipped his hands behind his back, giving the impression this was an official request.

"And then what?" The pounding in Jim's head was getting worse, definitely not better like M'Benga said it would. The pain was like a pulse, matching his heartbeat, throbbing inside his head, and behind his eyes. White spots danced under his eyelids every time he blinked.

"Well, then I'll be going with the Dohlman, of course."

"Of course," Jim said. He squeezed his eyes shut, but then quickly opened them when he was overcome with the sensation of the corridor spinning. "And do what?"

"We're going to negotiate the peace treaty between her people, and the Troyians. Once that's done, we'll find transport back to Elas."

"Have you forgotten how that peace is supposed to happen? The Dohlman is to marry the future ruler of Troyius." Jim should've been angry, that was what should've been happening, but his anger and shock was secondary to the beating his head was taking.

"Don't be ridiculous, Jim. Her Glory can't be expected to marry a barbarian like that Troyian." Bones was speaking so matter of fact, Jim was almost inclined to believe him.

He hoped the corridors were empty, and when he turned his head to take a look, he held back a painful moan from the movement. "That's not for us to decide, Bones. Our orders are to act strictly as peacekeeping delegates. We're not to interfere."

"I know. That's what the Klingons are for," Bones said, as casually as he might tell Jim what was on tonight's dinner menu.

"The Kling—What?" This time he couldn't hold back the pain, and a little cry broke through his lips. Standing up straight, he ignored it to look Bones in the eyes. He was so familiar with those hazel eyes, warm and usually so comforting, but the eyes looking back at him were foreign, not necessarily cold or hard, just unrecognizable.  

He wasn't sure if he'd heard Bones correctly, but it sure sounded like Bones had admitted the Dohlman was working with the Klingons. Maybe he had started to hallucinate from this apparent migraine. "Do you want to explain that?"

"The Klingons trailing behind us, Jim. The Dohlman didn't feel adequately represented at these negotiations, so she's brokered a deal with the Klingons to assist if the occasion arises."

Standing in the corridor outside their quarters, Jim's vulnerability felt like a big, red flashing beacon for the entire ship to see. His skin felt warm, but there was a deep chill settling inside him. A ringing in his ears had started, and it was getting harder to breathe. He wondered if this was what a panic attack felt like.

"Let's go inside and talk about this," Jim said under his breath, if anything to protect Bones from incriminating himself for treason against the Federation.

"There's nothing more to talk about."

"Bones, do you even hear yourself?" His voice had raised a few levels.

"Of course I do. Her plan is a pretty good one, if I do say so myself."

"It's a terrible plan! When have the Klingons ever been trustworthy, and when have _you_ ever sided with them?"

"Her Glory is a remarkable woman."

"Yes, yes. You keep saying that, but you've not convinced me in the slightest, and any other normal day, you wouldn't be convinced either," Jim said, trying to drag Bones toward the door to their quarters.

"Don't try and change my mind, Jim. It won't work." He pulled himself out from under Jim's grip. "I don't think it's a good idea for us to be alone. The Dohlman wouldn’t like it."

"Like what, exactly? You being alone with your husband in your own home, or the closest thing we have to one?" An ensign rushed down the corridor, head down looking at her PADD, and pretending to ignore the two of them. "Come on, let's just go inside."

"No, Jim." Leonard's jaw was set, and he squared his shoulders at Jim, refusing to move.

"Fine," Jim said, keeping his voice low while continuing the conversation. "Let's say these peace negotiations work out, what exactly will you be doing back on Elas?"

"Whatever the Dohlman requires of me," Bones said.  "We'll be married, and as her first husband, I'll be Her Glory's royal consort."

"Her first husband? Listen to yourself!" The anger finally broke through the torment his head was causing. "In case you've forgotten, that ring on your finger means you're mine!"

"I didn't know I was a possession, Jim."

"Tell that to your precious Dohlman!"

"Unlike you, the Dohlman understands me. We understand each other."

Jim's fist pulled back, and before he could stop himself, he'd clocked Leonard right in the nose. Bones went down hard, buckling to his knees from the unexpected blow.

"What did you do that for?" His hands muffled the sound of his voice, covering his nose, but Jim could see the blood trickling through Bones' fingers.

"Snap out of it!" Jim yelled. "What the hell is wrong with you?" So much for staying calm and rational, Jim thought, but this was not Leonard McCoy. It was the only thing that made sense about all of this. He was going to stun this imposter, and drag him to medical to have M'Benga check him out.

Jim tapped the console on the wall outside of their quarters.

"Security to the Captain's quarters."

Leonard reached for a shirt in one of the duffel bags on the floor. Holding it to his nose, he slowly got to his feet to face Jim.

"Bones, I'm going to have M'Benga run a scan, figure out what is happening to you. Maybe this is some kind of brain control thing. Something we haven't seen yet."

"There's nothing wrong with me, you ingrate! Maybe I'm just tired of you bullying me around, and getting your way all the time. Dammit, Jim! I'm not something that belongs to you, nor am I something you can order around."

"Well, technically that's not true."

"You're right, _Captain_. But I'll be damned if I'm going to spend another minute in your company by choice." Bones picked up the duffel bags, and as he turned away, he added salt to the wound. “You know what else’ll be nice? No one urinating on me in the morning!" He only took a few steps down the corridor before three red shirts, and a blue one, were coming toward them with phasers drawn.

"Gentlemen," Jim said, ignoring the dig from Bones, and ignoring Spock standing behind the security detail. "Please escort Dr. McCoy to the Medical Bay. He is to stay there until Dr. M'Benga clears him, or I say it's okay to release him. Use force if necessary."

"Captain—" Spock said, but Jim stopped him before he could say anything further.

"Dr. McCoy is a security risk. I will not jeopardize the safety of my ship for a personal relationship."

The guards hesitated for only a second, catching the murderous glares between the captain and the doctor, but in the end, they followed their orders and reached for Leonard's arms. "Aye, Captain."

With his nose still bleeding, Leonard surrendered to the guards. But before they left, Leonard addressed Jim with his eyebrow raised and a shake of the head. "The Dohlman was right, Jim. You're not the man I thought you were."

"Neither are you!"

It was petty of him to snap back like that, especially in front of his men, and Spock, but this was all new territory for him. M'Benga would have an answer for Bones' behavior. He'd cure Bones of whatever had taken hold of him, and everything would go back to the way they were. He tried to convince himself of this, but if his aching head was any indication of M'Benga's healing abilities, then whatever was happening to Bones wasn't going to be fixed any time soon.

Apart from Spock, the corridor was empty. He remained silent, letting Jim take a few deep breaths before asking any questions. Jim appreciated that; the whole vulnerability thing wasn't something he wanted to share with his first officer, let alone someone who couldn't sympathize with what he was going through at the moment.  

"The Dohlman and her party are to be confined to their quarters.” Jim's voice sounded rough, and cracked around the edges. “I want a security detail guarding their doors."

"Yes, Captain." Spock made the necessary calls, letting Jim catch his breath, which seemed to be coming in short, rapid bursts.

"Dr. McCoy has information about the Klingons." It was the only thing Jim was able to offer Spock without breaking down completely. Spock let his statement stand for a moment before he responded.

"I believe Lieutenant Uhura has discovered some new information in regards to the people of Elas—the women in particular. If her findings can be substantiated, it may explain Dr. McCoy's contradictory behavior."

Jim nodded, not trusting himself to speak, but as he moved his head, the pain became unbearable. It shot through his skull, making his knees buckle. He reached for the wall to hold himself up, but misjudged the distance and ended up falling to his hands and knees. A wave of heat consumed him, causing beads of sweat to break all over his skin. It was then, he realized, this wasn't just a headache, something was irrefutably wrong with him. He could taste bile in his throat, threatening to make its way up, and as the muscle spasms took hold of his body, all he thought about was Bones, and why he hadn't known he was ill. His Bones would've caught his symptoms before it had gotten this far.

"Spock to Medical." It was the last thing Jim heard before everything went black.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Jim recognized the feel of itchy sheets pressed against his skin. These weren’t the ones Bones purchased on their Honeymoon on Risa. Those sheets were soft and inviting, a form of cotton that felt silky to the touch, and cost more than Jim ever spent on any bedding or mattress combined. The first night Bones had put the sheets on their bed, their attempts to break them in had nearly ruined them. One good thing Bones brought from his first marriage and into his second was the secret to a comfortable bed and a peaceful night's rest, that is, when they found the time to sleep.

Jim never knew what he'd been missing. He'd grown up as a typical bachelor, laying his head where it fell, and not caring what was underneath him while he slept.  A new mattress, not the Starfleet issued ones, new sheets and pillows, and the first time Jim slipped into their bed, he was a king who had come to reign. He loved their bed, and it had nothing to do with the partner sharing it with him—at least that’s what he told Bones.

As he slowly became aware of his surroundings, the second thing Jim noticed, other than the rough texture beneath his fingers, was the lack of restriction around his neck. Someone had removed his formal uniform, and dressed him in a medbay gown. He never understood the need for them, modesty wasn’t his thing, but he was happy to be relieved of the stiff collar he wore earlier. Jim just hoped it was Bones or M'Benga who stripped and changed him. He didn't need Christine knowing the kind of boxers he put on this morning to aggravate Bones. The warning sign graphic, 'large package, handle with care,' was one thing, but the fact they were neon orange, was another. Bones hated those things, and so did Jim, but they did the trick when it came to getting Bones riled up, and his ridiculous choice in boxers did more for their sex life than Bones would ever admit.

Before opening his eyes, Jim noticed the unmistakable beeping sound of a biobed monitoring his vitals, and alerting the doctors to his conscious state. He didn't need his vision to tell him he was in the medbay. He supposed that was the third and final hint of where he had ended up, but there had been one important thing that made him second-guess his assumption.  The distinct lack of a comforting touch, or the premonition of someone hovering nearby had been something he’d grown accustomed to every time he woke up in these horrible sheets with the smell of antiseptic wafting about the room. Usually a warm hand rested in his, or at the least, there was the sharp cuff to his head because of something stupid he’d done to wind up here.

Jim opened his eyes, fighting the urge to shut them tight against the bright, white lights above him.  His headache had subsided, and his heart didn't feel as though it would burst through his chest, but his fingers were a bit numb, like pins and needles running over the tips. His eyes swept the room, and the feel of disappointment came flooding in like an ocean wave trying to drown him. The only comfort here was the steady beep-beep of his pulse. A stark and empty room was the only thing waiting for him.

“Bones?” he asked, his voice parched from thirst. He needed to make certain Bones wasn't close by; perhaps he'd stepped away for a minute or two. Calling his name one more time, Jim waited for his eyes to adjust to the light so he could see the contents of the room more clearly. He wasn’t in the main area; he was in his own room, which troubled him more than the lack of presence of the one person he wanted to see.

The door opened, and in strode Dr. M’Benga with a PADD in hand. “Captain, glad to see you’re with us again.”

“Where I am?”

“We’ve put you in a quarantine room,” M'Benga said.

“Am I contagious?”

“No. Mr. Spock thought it wise to keep you here, away from prying eyes.”

Jim nodded before looking around the room to make sure no one else was infected. That's what he told himself, and not because he still searched for Bones.

M’Benga had called his First Officer in, and within seconds, Spock stood at the foot of the bed, ramrod straight and rather imposing.

“Captain.”

“Spock,” he said, keeping his disappointment buried deep. “What happened?”

“Evidence suggests you were poisoned, Captain.”

“Poisoned?” Jim struggled to get out of the bed, but he was still weak, so his attempt was clumsy at best.

“I wouldn't advise that,” M’Benga said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll undo the hard work we’ve done.”

“Poisoned?” Jim asked again. “How? Was anyone else...”

“Negative, Captain. You appear to be the only one targeted.”

“Where’s Bones?” His voice didn’t sound his own. It was deep and dirty, like he’d swallowed a bucket of sand.

"We put him in an isolation room in Medbay 2," M'Benga said. "Christine is with him, running some scans."

Jim supposed that explained Bones’ absence, but then again, if he’d known what happened to Jim, he would’ve knocked out the guards and fought his way to Jim’s bedside.

“Did you tell him what happened?” Jim asked Spock, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

“I have not. I felt it necessary to speak with you before informing the doctor of your predicament.”

Jim nodded, then realized the conclusions Spock must have formulated. “You don’t think Bones did this, do you?” He started to get up again, but M’Benga halted his actions with a few words, and a gentle hand.

“It is unclear at this time,” Spock said.

“Well, he didn’t!” Jim said, hoping his voice sounded convincing. They _had_ been fighting, and Bones might have been under the influence of something alien, but he had to believe Bones would never poison him, no matter how bad things were between them. “It wasn’t him.” He said it again, realizing how desperate he must have sounded.

“All right. Let’s hold off on the accusations until we can determine where the poison came from," M'Benga said, "and concentrate on the possibility of developing an antidote."

“Antidote? You mean I’m not fixed?”

“It's a poison I've never seen the likes of. I’ve managed to slow the progression, mask some of the symptoms, but until we determine the origin of it, I’m afraid your organs will continue to shut down one by one.  It’s not fast acting, thankfully, but if you exasperate yourself, you’ll only bring on the attack quicker.”

"What you're saying is..." Jim said, "…if I get myself excited, I’ll likely topple over again."

Spock subjected him to his own version of skepticism: a tilt of the head and a raise of the eyebrow. “Topple does not accurately describe what happened to you, Captain.”

“Your heart stopped,” M’Benga added.

Jim clutched his chest, rubbing the spot above his heart. That explained why his fingers were tingling, and why it felt like a few thousand volts had run through his body. Bones wasn't here to treat him, and that bothered him more than he wanted to admit. He imagined there would be an over-the-top tirade coming M'Benga's way once Bones found out Jim's heart had stopped. Jim didn't envy the man, but choosing to leave Bones out of this was asking for punishment.

A fleeting thought crossed Jim's mind. _What if Bones didn't care?_ _What if Bones decided to leave like he was planning?_ The biosensors picked up on his distress.

"Captain, what is it?" M'Benga leaned forward, pushing a few buttons on the sensor console.

Jim glanced to Spock, and although his expression was stoic as usual, Jim had come to recognize concern in those Vulcan eyes. As much as he never thought he'd admit it, Spock had become more than his First Officer, they were friends—no matter how much Spock protested. They cared for each other, and Spock sympathized with Jim, even if he'd deflect it if Jim told him so. He understood Jim was hurting, and even though M'Benga thought it had to do with the poison, Spock understood it had everything to do with Bones.

"I'm okay," Jim said. "Really, Doc. Just a hiccup." Jim forced a smile, and looked away from Spock's scrutinizing gaze. "So, what's the best course of action?"

"You need to stay off your feet until we find the antidote," M'Benga said.

"You and I know that's not going to happen," Jim said. "We have a Klingon ship trailing us, and I have a diplomatic duty to the people of Elas and Troyius. I have to make myself present."

M'Benga started to protest, but Spock interrupted.

"I must concur with the captain, Doctor," Spock said, then turned his attention to Jim. "You are the captain of this ship. You do not have the luxury of weakness in the eyes of the Klingons. Frailty will not go unchallenged. They will expect you on the bridge when negotiations begin."

"Agreed," Jim said. Spock was capable of handling this ship, and handling one warbird, but the Klingons would only deal with the captain of the Enterprise. There wasn't a need to invite an unnecessary battle if he could stop it just by showing a strong and capable front.

"I must advise against this, Captain. Until we know more about the nature of this poison, I would like you to stay here where I can monitor you."

"I understand, Geoff, and your objection is noted. One of the advantages of being captain is listening to advice without actually having to take it." He smiled, pushing back the covers, dangling his legs over the edge of the bed.

“This _will_ kill you, Captain."

“Maybe,” Jim smiled, “but I doubt it. I have the best doctors and scientists in the fleet. I have every confidence you’ll find me an antidote. And Mr. Spock will apprehend the person or persons responsible for the attempt on my life, while I sit comfortably in my captain’s chair and stop a war from happening. It’s as simple as that. I won’t even have to lift a finger.”

“Is that a promise? If your heart rate elevates—”

“Got it. No excitement. Shouldn't be a problem.”

M'Benga threw his hands up in the air. "I don't know how Leonard does it. I understand why he loves those hyposprays so much. You really are incorrigible."

Jim laughed, then stopped himself when the hurt caught up to him again. Bones was somewhere else on this ship, not here with him, and being so far from his reach did more to his system than any deadly poison running through his veins.

"Have the tests come back?" Jim asked, his voice soft and hesitant. "Do we know what's wrong with him?"

The long, silent pause between Spock and M'Benga made the subtle beeps and hisses of the machines in the room seem deafening. This couldn't be good, he thought. "If you want to keep my heart rate in check, someone better start talking right now," he demanded.

"Jim," M'Benga said, and he felt like he was falling again. It was rare for the doctor to call him Jim. He'd asked M'Benga on many occasions to use his first name, but he was more like Spock in that regard. The man had difficulty with the familiarity of it, unless, of course, it was something serious.

"We've run every test we can think of," M'Benga said. "Even a few Christine insisted on, and we can't find anything wrong with him. He's healthy in every regard. The tests came back normal."

"Normal or inconclusive?"

"Jim…"

The falling sensation didn't stop; he felt the wind rushing past his ears, blocking out the surrounding sounds, and his stomach did flip-flops while he waited for the impact of hitting ground. And when it did finally hit, it would be worse than any poison, or radiation he'd ever suffered.

He held it together, though, giving himself a few deep breaths to recover. "So there's nothing wrong with him."

"Nothing physically, anyway," M'Benga said. "Jim, we can run more tests. Psychological…"

He didn't hear the rest of M'Benga's explanation, focusing on one single thought. There was no disease, or tumor, or levels of toxins in Bones' blood stream that could explain his strange behavior. He just didn't want him anymore. This morning he shared quips and coffee cups with Bones, and now, Bones wanted to move on from what they had. He often wondered when this day would come; he just didn't think it would happen so abruptly. Life was like that, though. It swung sucker punches, and Jim was always on the receiving end. He'd been foolish to think it would be different with Bones.

The room started to spin again, and before the dizziness overwhelmed him, he rested back against the pillow with his legs still hanging over the bed. Aware of M'Benga fussing over him, he raised a hand to his eyes. "I just need a minute," he said, willing the sadness out of his voice. "Just a minute." The last thing he wanted to happen was M'Benga to put him under 'for his own good.'

While he lay on the bed, he could feel his headache surfacing again; it wasn't painful, more like a niggling feeling, resting underneath his skin waiting for the opportune time to rear its ugly head.

"Captain," Spock said. It was just above a whisper, like he didn’t want to disturb him, but there was a hint of urgency behind his voice. Jim opened one eye, shadowed beneath his arm, but he could see Spock’s form standing at the end of the bed, arms still resting behind him. The man began speaking, but Jim had difficulty following what he had to say.

Someone on this ship wanted him dead. His Chief Medical Officer was under a kind of alien influence, and he had a Klingon ship who wanted something from him, he just didn't know what, yet. It was obvious the facts led to the Dohlman and her entourage, but he couldn’t go around accusing dignitaries of attempted murder, coercion or treason until he had sound evidence.

Jim recalled his memory of collapsing in the corridor, and Spock's last words to him before he blacked out. "Earlier," Jim said, "you mentioned Uhura finding something.”

"It is, as far as I can surmise, what human's call an 'old wives tale.' I do not believe in enchantments, nor do I believe in unsubstantiated evidence, regardless, I have Lieutenant Sulu working in the lab on the biochemical compound to determine the merits of the findings."

"Wait," Jim said, wincing as he forced himself to sit up again. "Chemical compound of what?"

"Their tears, Captain."

"What about them?" He hated admitting to the Vulcan he hadn't been listening, drifting in his own thoughts, but at least he could chalk it up to the poison.

M'Benga gave him a strange look, then went to look at the readouts of the biobed again. Spock only paused for a moment, unsure if he should continue, or annoyed that he had to repeat himself.

"Captain, as I was saying, Lieutenant Uhura found evidence in the database that would suggest there is something highly unusual about the tears of the Elasian women. Allegedly one touch can bend the will of any man, enslave their hearts to that woman."

Jim slipped off the bed, aware he was still in his medical gown, but he garnered the strength to stand.

"I'm going to need something to wear," he said.

"Captain—" M'Benga started to protest.

"Don't," he said. "Just don't." He gripped the edge of the bed, steadying himself against the swaying feeling. "I'm leaving this room, against medical wishes if that will make you feel better, Doctor, but I won't spend another second in that bed." Pulling a few drawers out in the stand next to his bed, he found his uniform, warning-label boxers and all. "Spock, talk to me," he said. "What other evidence do you have about these tears?"

"Nothing further at this time, Captain." Spock tilted his head to the side. "Do you have reason to believe Dr. McCoy was in contact with the Dohlman's tears?"

"If Christine's story is true, he most certainly was."

Behind him, M'Benga grunted. "Surely you can't think Dr. McCoy is under some kind of spell, all because he made a woman cry?" He tried to hide his smile, and if Jim was in his shoes, he might have laughed as well, but something was inherently wrong with Bones, and he'd grasp at anything and everything—including magic—if it explained Bones' bizarre behavior.

"Not a spell, doctor," Spock said. "A chemical reaction, not unlike a very powerful pheromone."

"Pheromones?" M'Benga shook his head. "Well, after everything we've encountered over the years, mind-controlling pheromones isn't much of a stretch. Nothing came up in Dr. McCoy's scans, but I'm not sure it would. Pheromones aren't really my specialty. You say you have Lieutenant Sulu working on it? I'd like to consult with him."

"I did not wish to call attention to the situation, which is the reason I recruited Mr. Sulu. He is," Spock paused, glancing to Jim, "discreet."

"Thank you, Spock," Jim said, slipping on his boxers underneath his dressing gown, then followed with his pants. "How accurate do you think Uhura's findings are? Do you think Mr. Sulu will find something?"

"It is highly unlikely that one chemical compound could manipulate a person's state of mind toward complete and utter devotion. However, I cannot be certain until we run more tests."

"Can it be reversed?" Jim asked.

"I do not know."

"Well, perhaps _Her Glory_ can shed light on the situation," Jim said, throwing his black shirt over his head, struggling to get his arms in the sleeves. "Mr. Spock, escort the Dohlman to my ready room. I'll join you once I've collected myself." From the corner of his eye he watched M'Benga fold his arms in a show of defiance, but as much as Jim wanted to lay his head back on the pillow, he didn't have the luxury to do so. "I'll comm you if my status changes," Jim promised him.

"I doubt that very much, Captain," M'Benga said, chuckling. "But I'll be by to check on you shortly. In the meantime, what should I tell Leonard?"

Jim paused a moment before putting on his left boot. He didn't have an answer to give M'Benga. It seemed in this circumstance he was 'emotionally compromised.' What if Bones didn't care his body was failing him? Having Bones reject him, even under the influence of something foreign, was something he wasn't strong enough to handle right now.

"I believe it would be wise to leave Dr. McCoy under observation in Medbay 2," Spock said. "Although I do not consider Dr. McCoy a threat, he may be in danger. Until we have more facts, we can only assume the less contact he has with the Dohlman, the better."

Spock understood the difficult decision Jim couldn't make, and he made it seem effortless, without preamble or contention, knowing exactly what Jim needed and acting on his behalf. Many would say it was the mark of a good First Officer, but Jim didn't believe that. To him, it was the sign of a good friend.

 


	6. Chapter 6

The walk to his ready room had been slow but steady, and if he had to stop twice to rest, Spock didn't call attention to it; he merely continued to brief the captain as though Jim's muscles weren't seizing up, stripping him of his dignity. His strength waned, draining away like M’Benga had warned him. He didn’t think he could preserve this charade, but if the Dohlman was surprised to see him, she was a better deceiver than Jim speculated. Despite the business with Bones and his failing body, Jim hoped he appeared strong and capable, and royally pissed off. Poison aside, there would be no doubt who was in command of the Enterprise.

The two bodyguards standing behind the Dohlman, tried their best to intimidate Jim. But with Spock to his right, and his own security ensign to his left, he sat comfortably behind his desk, unburdened by the princess' meager show of strength. He’d faced worse enemies, and as far as he was concerned, she was nothing more than a spoiled brat who was in over her head.

“It seems you and I need to discuss a few things.”

“I do not have speak to you if I do not wish it," Elaan snapped.

Leaning back in his chair, Jim hid his discomfort from the shooting pain traveling down his legs. It felt like someone was stabbing dull knives into his thighs. He was seated, thankfully, or this entire facade would be for nothing if he buckled to the floor.

Taking a deep breath, passing it off as frustration, he narrowed his gaze at Elaan. “That’s where you’re wrong, your highness. This is _my_ ship, and you’re a guest. If your presence is a threat to the well-being of my crew and this vessel, then I’ll lock you in the brig until I assess the threat is over.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” She met his eyes with all the royal defiance behind it, but it did nothing to sway Jim.

“I would.”

“I am a member of the Royal House of Elas. I am the Dohlman of my people. I do not take orders from the likes of you!” She went to rise, but Jim slammed his hand on the desk.

“Sit down!” At Jim’s outburst, her two guards moved to stand close to her, ready to sweep her away if necessary, but she held up a hand to stay them.

Leaning forward, she placed her hands on his desk, staring him right in the eyes. “ _Captain_ , you do not have the right to speak to me in this manner. If we were on Elas, my guards would slice your throat where you sit."

"But we're not on Elas. So I have every right to speak to you the way you deserve."

"You disrespect my station. You will give me the courtesy I am entitled, or suffer the wrath of my people.”

“You want respect? You earn it, not demand it. Are we clear?” The energy it took to move was a shock to his system, but he managed to push himself forward so they were inches apart. "Now, you will answer my questions, or I’ll throw you in the brig myself. I’ll do it anyway I see fit, even if it means throwing you over my shoulder in front of my crew, and carrying you through the corridors.” He hoped she wouldn't call his bluff, his sweat-soaked body aside, he would damn well try it if she didn't cooperate.

The Dohlman straightened, watching Jim with guarded eyes. Her security detail awaited her orders, but none came for them.

"Speak," she demanded with a curve of her lip in disgust.

"Sit," Jim said, and then added, "please," as an afterthought.

Surprisingly, she obliged him, sitting straight-backed, and with the regal elegance she'd learned to convey since birth.

Jim wanted to ask her about Bones. He wanted to shake her senseless until she gave him the answers he wanted to hear, but Bones wasn't the threat right now. He had a warbird trailing his ship in a not-so nonthreatening distance, and his duty went beyond personal vendettas.

“Let’s begin by telling me about the Klingon ship. What deal have you offered them?”

The Dohlman stayed quiet, folding her arms, and turning her head away from Jim. Her guards shifted on their feet, refusing to look at Jim, but knowing more than they should.

“We can do this the hard way if you refuse to answer. But you won't like it,” Jim said, and then nodded toward Spock—who hadn't so much as moved a muscle since the Dohlman stepped foot in the ready room. “My First Officer is a Vulcan. Are the Elasian people familiar with Vulcans? Did you know they are touch telepaths?” Jim's words were nothing more than a threat. Spock would never invade the privacy of a dignitary, especially with plans in place for Elas and Troyius to become members of the Federation. The union of the two planets was important, and Spock wouldn't risk that by performing a mind meld against the Dohlman's will. But, of course, Elaan wouldn't know the truth.

“If that vile creature touches me, they will kill you both.” She indicated her guards over her shoulder, and Spock responded with a raise of his eyebrow in what Jim could see was obvious doubt.

"I will only ask one more time," Jim said, grateful to Spock for keeping his silence.

"You think I am ignorant about your long-standing conflict with the Klingons, _Captain_ Kirk?"

"It's true," Jim said, "the Federation has had difficulty upholding the truce with the Empire. And by entrusting the Klingons, you have put the entire Federation at risk. Surely, you of all people know how important treaties are to warring nations."

The Dohlman scoffed, and for the first time, Jim saw real pain behind her eyes. "Perhaps your precious Federation should sell its princesses to those disgusting, violent swine. Maybe then your war will end."

It dawned on Jim why this woman acted the way she did. She was a fighter, similar to him, and he knew what it meant to try everything possible to sway the outcome of a hopeless situation.

"Elaan," he said her name with a tenderness he'd not yet displayed.

"Do not pity me!" she yelled, but he saw the tears in her eyes. He let her have a moment, not because he thought she needed it, but he came to understand what was underneath the bravado of her behavior. Jim had written her off as a hedonistic, malicious woman, but she resembled him in many regards. Where he put on the front of arrogance and foolhardy bravery, Elaan wanted everyone to believe she was high-handed and severe—a defense mechanism much like his own. She was a scared, young woman, being ripped apart from everything she knew, and forced to do something beyond her control.

What if she had her own Bones, and was torn from him, leaving him behind to never see again? Jim didn’t want to imagine what he would contemplate in her situation. He couldn’t blame her—he could sympathize—but he was a third party in these negotiations. No matter how much injustice Elaan was served, he couldn’t interfere with the politics of the two planets.

"I understand your difficult arrangement, Elaan. I don't pity you, not at all. If anything, I admire your spirit." And it was the truth to a point, but he needed her to understand the dangerous position she had put herself in, as well as his ship. "The Klingons won't help you, not in the way you want them to. They despise treachery and cowardice. It's not the way of the Empire. They admire strength. They'll take whatever you have promised them, and then they'll more than likely kill you and destroy this ship."

Her face gave nothing away, at least not in her expression, anyway. She appeared unshaken, but Jim knew how to read people—more than just their expressions—if he didn't, he never would have dared make the first move on Bones.

"I can help you," Jim said. "More than they can."

"No, Captain. You are only the broker in this deal. You cannot help me. I know your kind. You are duty bound, and your _duty_ is to deliver me to the planet Troyius."

"So is that it? The Klingons help you escape _your_ duty, and what do they get in exchange? You won’t be able to return to your planet. Where will you go? Have you thought that through?” The idea of Bones following her to the Klingon ship made his pulse race. The heat rose to his neck, finding its way to his cheeks, and he didn't need Spock to address him to know he needed to preserve a calm and steady front.

Despite the compassion he felt for her earlier, his patience had worn thin. “What have you done to Dr. McCoy?”

She didn't appear alarmed by his question, more apathetic than anything. "He was touched by the Creator. He will go where I go. That is his fate now."

"That’s not fate. You've taken away his will, his right to think for himself." Jim's anger came shining through. He wished he carried the restraint Spock did, but the thought of losing Bones made the rational side of his brain fly out an airlock.

"It is our way," Elaan said. "It always has been. Those who are blessed are held in high esteem. He will be cared for as long as he is by my side."

"What do you plan on doing with him?"

"Whatever is required of him. He is obliged to serve me in all things I desire."

From her tone, it was unmistakable what her intention for Bones was; it rang loud and clear. Spock's orders to have Bones isolated wasn't for his protection, it was for Jim's. As much as Jim loved Bones, and even if he was under an influence of something chemical, he didn't imagine their relationship would survive infidelity. Jim would never work through it, and Bones would never forgive himself.

He'd never had a jealous streak; he never had anything solely his before, and now he had Bones _and_ the Enterprise. They were as much his as he was theirs. This woman, however damaged she might be, wanted to take them away from him. And the worst part, she acted as though she didn't care she was ripping apart his entire world. He wanted to yell and scream, and wring Elaan's neck, but at the same time he wanted to beg and plead with her to give him the cure. These conflicting emotions were new for him, so he settled on something impartial.

"It's wrong," Jim said, trying to hide the waver in his voice. "Can't you see that? He's a man with the right to choose. You're enslaving him to a life he wasn’t meant for."

Spock’s steady hand came to rest on his shoulder, placed there in comfort and warning, but he didn’t need it as a reminder; the ache in his head, and the sharp pain in his legs were reminders the poison was taking a more active role in his well-being.

"What does one doctor on a ship of hundreds matter to you?" Elaan asked.

"He's more than just a doctor." Jim answered with such longing and sadness, it left a substantial silence in the room. He looked straight at her when he said it, and for the first time he saw a hint of benevolence hidden in the depths of her bitterness. Elaan wasn’t just afraid; she was isolated and desperate for connections.

Just as he was about to break the silence, the doors to the ready room opened and commotion followed.

The Elas Ambassador rushed in with a wild-eyed, and out of breath, Bones. Jim never had much interaction with the Ambassador when he first arrived on the ship. Frankly, Jim couldn’t stomach his incessant need to make the Dohlman happy. He’d passed the Ambassador off to the ship’s purser, and hadn’t seen him since he left him objecting about the standard grey carpet in 'Her Glory's' quarters. He was a portly gentleman, balding with a perpetual flushed face, but he didn’t seem older than the Dohlman. He wondered how long he’d been serving Elaan.

"What is the meaning of this, Captain?" the Ambassador said. "You cannot interrogate Her Glory like this."

"Elaan," Bones said, dropping to his knee in front of her, and reaching for her hand, "are you all right?"

It hurt more to see Bones like that than Jim thought possible, and he wondered if it was already too late. How close had Bones and the Dohlman become?

"Jim, just what in hell is going on?" Bones rose, taking a step toward him, but Spock acted quickly. He stepped in front of Jim's desk, putting himself between the two.

"Dr. McCoy, where is your escort?" Spock asked.

From the corner of his eye, Jim could see his security ensign drawing his phaser, and the Dohlman's men were keen to retaliate.

"Since when do I need an escort on my own ship, you green-blooded—"

"Bones!" Jim interrupted, and everyone froze at his outburst. He needed to take control of the situation. "You were ordered to stay in the medbay."

"Well, that was before you started accusing Her Glory, and treating her like a prisoner. I thought she was a guest of the Enterprise. Is this how you treat guests, Jim?"

"Where is your security detail?" Spock asked again, before Jim could reply with something he'd regret.

"Let's just say I'm a mighty big fan of hyposprays," Bones said, then crossed his arms, rocking on his heels back and forth. For a moment, Jim wanted to trust Bones was his old self—he certainly acted like it—but then Jim realized the gravity of Bones' statement.

"Bones, tell me you didn't drug them."

"Then I won't tell you anything."

"Christine?" Jim asked.

"No hypospray, but I might’ve locked her in a quarantine room."

The door to his room opened one more time, and two security ensigns and Uhura walked in, phasers drawn. If Jim wasn't so exhausted and fed up, he might have reprimanded the next person who entered unannounced.

"Captain," Uhura said, easing herself toward the center of the room. "Lieutenant Chapel is unharmed, but thought you might need some assistance."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Jim squeezed his temples, closing his eyes, wishing he could travel back in time to this morning when everything was normal.

What he wanted to do was drag Bones to their quarters, and have this talk in private, but he was certain his legs had failed him. He couldn't stand if he wanted to, and if that wasn't embarrassing enough, he was about to have his husband arrested in front of his crew.

"Dr. McCoy," Jim sighed, "you are relieved of duty. Mr. Spock, have Dr. McCoy taken into custody, and placed in the brig." It pained him to say it, but he was out of options. He couldn't let Bones get away with insubordination, and still maintain the respect he needed in front of his crew and the Dohlman.

"Now, hold on! Don't do this, Jim," Leonard protested, backing away from Spock who loomed dangerously close with his fingers ready to pinch. "Don’t you dare try that Vulcan thing on me!"

“Spock,” Jim said in warning, shaking his head, and wasn’t that the wrong decision. The movement caused the room to spin, like his eyeballs had rolled back into his head. Gripping his chair, he fought the nausea and the vertigo, waiting for it to subside before continuing.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be," Jim managed to say.

"Let's be reasonable about this," Bones said. "I think this has gotten a little out of hand."

"Out of hand?" Uhura said. "Leonard, you drugged your own people." She lowered her phaser, trying to appeal to his softer side. "Can’t you see there’s something wrong with you?"

"There's nothing wrong with me, dammit!" he snapped.

"She's done something to you," Uhura said, taking a few steps toward him. "We just want to help you get back to the person you are. You're not you."

"I'm the same damn person, just with a new perspective."

Leonard actually believed what he was saying. Hearing him willing to throw away everything they had built together was difficult to hear. Jim was burned in a fire once, and those flames licked at his skin like razors. Bones' declarations felt like the flames were burning him from deep inside, charring things to a crisp.

Uhura reached out to take Bones' hands, holding him at arms' length. "You love Jim, Leonard."

It didn't feel like this was happening to him. Jim was a spectator in his own story. He couldn't look at Bones, couldn't watch the confusion on his face as he wrestled the truth of Uhura's words.

"He drives you mad sometimes," Uhura smiled, rubbing her thumbs along his hands, "but you love him."

He pulled away from her, placing them behind his back. "People fall in and out love all the time." Glancing at Elaan, he added, "Maybe it's all of you who need to accept that."

"Not like this, they don't," Uhura said, and this time there was no placating tone, she was downright angry.

As Jim looked away, he met Elaan's gaze who only had eyes for him. Her eyes were calculating, like always, but her expression had softened, as though she understood the gravity of what Bones meant to him.

It wasn't that Jim and Bones kept their relationship hidden from the galaxy; they just didn't flaunt it, especially to strangers who might not understand. Whenever they beamed down to a planet, or someone came aboard the ship, Jim introduced Bones as his Chief Medical Officer. Most people came and went never knowing they were married. It wasn’t their intention to deceive anyone, more of a sense of duty, and it worked for them.

"He is your lover," Elaan said with a bitterness that was obvious, making the commotion in the room stop.

"They have a life together," Uhura snapped, ending the momentary silence. "I understand the notion of marriage isn’t sacred to a race of people who marry off their daughters to broker peace treaties, but Terrans marry for love."

"Don't speak to her that way," Bones said.

"I speak for myself, Leonard." It was the first time Elaan had used his name in front of Jim. It was foreign on her tongue—emphasis on the wrong syllables—and even though Jim never called him that name, it annoyed him to hear it come from her lips.

"Of course, Your Glory," Bones apologized. His subservient nature was so uncharacteristic, it left Jim at a loss for words. He was happy to let Uhura speak the words he couldn't, but having this conversation in front of these people was humiliating. His chest felt splayed open for everyone to see his heart breaking in two. It made it difficult to breathe, and as he struggled to catch his breath, his hands started to shake. Sweat broke out on his skin, and the room started to spin again.

"There is no cure, Captain," she said, steady and composed. "It may not be love, but a deep devotion that cannot be undone." Elaan watched him with a scrutinizing eye, and it was plain to see she calculated what her presence aboard the ship had done.

"Bones…" Jim didn't mean to say his name, but the agony had reached its peak. As their eyes met, Bones' brow furrowed. It was the first time, since this morning, Leonard truly saw Jim and the toll the day had taken on his body.

“Jim? You look like….What’s going on?”

"Bones…" This time, he choked as he said it, clutching his chest as his joints seized. His breaths came short and quick, and he couldn’t stop the spasms as he tumbled out of his chair.

"Dr. M'Benga to the captain's ready room," Spock said.

"Jim!" He felt familiar hands on his face, warm and callused, and so very insistent. "What the hell is wrong with him?" The hands he knew so well, laid him on the floor. As the tremors in his muscles continued, he thought about those comforting hands being the last thing he'd feel when he left this world.

"Come on now, Jim. Stay with me." His vision blurred, but the fingers moved to the side of his neck, pressing and holding in one spot.

"Goddammit, Jim! I won't watch you die again. Let's get him to medbay. Now!"


	7. Chapter 7

When he woke this time, he felt the presence of someone hovering near, and all seemed right in his world. He didn’t want to open his eyes; he wanted to revel in this between state where Bones was still his, and he wasn’t dying—for he definitely was dying. Jim had felt death at his doorstep a few times to know the difference.

“I know you’re awake,” Bones said.

Jim didn’t want to smile, but he did before opening his eyes.

“Bones,” he said, between dry lips, “you’re here.”

“Where else would I be?” Bones reached for a cup filled with water, holding it to Jim's mouth. He drank deeply, and wanted more, but Bones pulled it away before he could drain the glass.

The room was suspiciously quiet, and absent of anyone else.

“Where is everyone?”

Bones ignored his question, opting for one of his own.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were _poisoned_? Goddammit, Jim! Whose idea was it to keep it from me? Yours?” Jim didn’t dare tell him it was Spock’s; their relationship was precarious enough. “Your heart stopped, for God’s sake, and no one thought I should know?”

“Why should you?” Jim said. “For all we know, it was you who did the poisoning.”

Bones looked at him, thick brows drawn down, and his mouth fell open in offence. Worry lingered in Bones' eyes, and it was obvious he was hurt by Jim's flippant remark and accusation. How long was he out? Jim wondered. Maybe there had been a cure while he was unconscious.

There was a long moment of silence, weighted with the events of the day, and Jim felt unease tickling at the back of his neck.

“You think I want you dead?” Bones asked. His voice was soft, and it went straight to Jim's gut.

“I didn’t mean that,” Jim said, feeling the warmth on his face. "I'm sorry."

“I’m sorry, too,” Bones said, then looked away.

The tips of Bones’ ears turned pink, and his shoulders were hunched over in what Jim thought might be embarrassment. Jim reached his hand toward him, hoping to alleviate the need for apologies. His smile was wide, and he had the urge to laugh like this had been an outrageous misunderstanding. Bones was back, he thought, and he relaxed into the mattress, feeling lighter than he had all day. But then without warning, Bones turned away from him, walking to the edge of the bed, and Jim's reflexes jerked in alarm.

“Jim,” Bones said with a sigh, “just because I’m leaving doesn’t mean I don’t care what happens to you.”

His hands were slick with sweat, so Jim gripped the bed sheet with all the strength he had, twisting until his arms shook. He gave Bones a marked look, but didn’t have the words to speak. Jim never could guard his emotions when it came to Bones; everything was splayed on his face, there for Bones to see, except this time, he was spared the pity, because Bones wouldn’t even look at him.

“I still care about you, you moron,” Bones said, staring at the palm of his hand.

"Do you?" Lashing out wasn’t the most intelligent thing to do, but it’s what Jim did when it came to matters of the heart. He stared holes in the wall, breathing slow and hard. “You just care about the Dohlman more.”

“It’s not like that.” Bones folded his arms, still maintaining some distance. It didn’t escape Jim’s notice that Bones had yet to touch him.

“Then tell me what it's like.”

“I can’t explain it so you'll understand. I can only say it’s a compulsion I can’t fight, and to be honest, I don’t want to.”

“But it’s not real, Bones. Did Spock tell you about the—"

“Pheromones?” Bones finished for him. "Uhura did."

“And?” Jim asked.

“And I don’t believe in voodoo magic, Jim. I’m a medical doctor, dammit, not a witch doctor.”

"Exactly, Bones! How can you wake up this morning, tell me you love me, then hours later want to leave? It doesn't make any sense, at least not logically. There's a chemical imbalance happening in your brain."

"That's poppycock."

Jim didn’t want to laugh, he wanted to fight this out, but he also wanted to pull Bones into his arms, hold him there and never let him go.

“We can find a cure, Bones.”

“There isn’t one, and I don’t need one. You on the other hand...” He cocked one dark eyebrow, giving Jim the same irritated look he'd given him for years.

“You can fight it,” Jim said, ignoring Bones’ attempt to change the subject. “If you know it’s not real—”

“It is to me,” he said with finality. "I'm sorry, Jim, but I need to go. It’s where I belong.”

“You belong here.”

“Not anymore.” His tone tried to spare Jim some of the heartache.

“Between you and M’Benga, you’ll find the cure. Stay, and let’s work through this.”

Bones took a deep breath, sighing in frustration. “I can’t do that.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

“Won’t. My place is with Elaan. Your place is here on this ship. We're intended for other things now. It’s better I go, and you can move on. Find someone to make you happy.”

“I thought I did, and look how well that’s turning out.”

Bones unfolded his arms, reaching his hand out to cup Jim’s cheek. It was soft and tender, and when he rubbed his thumb along his jaw, Jim leaned into it, closing his eyes to revel in the warmth of his touch.

“I want you to move on, Jim.”

Jim smiled, a sad and exhausted one. He was tired of the fight. His body felt older than his years. He'd been fighting for so long, and when he met Bones, he found someone to shoulder the weight. He couldn't go back to what it was like before, all alone and suffocating from the need to push harder, go farther. He didn’t want to struggle anymore. He wanted to lay his head down, and let go—sleep forever.

Keeping his eyes closed, he mustered the courage to admit a hard truth. “There are a million things in this universe you can have, Bones, and a million things you can’t. It’s no fun realizing that, but it’s the way things are.”

“Jim…”

“If anyone knows the truth to that statement, it’s me."

"What are you saying?"

"Nothing. I'm just tired," he said, opening his eyes. "Need to sleep."

Bones staggered back, shock and revulsion on his face. "Are you giving up?”

“You are.” Jim shrugged.

“I am not, dammit! I told you I watched you die once, never again.” Bones turned toward the monitors, adjusting a few things, probably setting up every sensor alarm to alert him of the slightest change in Jim's body.

"Bones, I've been in this predicament enough times to know when things have started to shut down. I'm dying, and this time," Jim said, "promise me you'll let me stay dead." He hoped his words cut to the bone. He wanted them to, even if they weren't necessarily the truth.

Bones spun to face him, victory shining on his face. He actually smiled, and Jim wanted to smack the grin off his face, and he would have if he had the energy. He was dying, and Bones was already celebrating.

"If you were in a hurry," Jim said, and the air felt stale and thick in his throat, "why bother saving me earlier?"

"Such a drama queen." Bones scoffed, rolling his eyes. “While you were trying to die, we found the source of the poison. M’Benga’s synthesizing an antidote, right now. You’ll live.”

The moisture in Jim’s eyes swelled, and the last thing he wanted to do was cry in front of Bones, but the tears came without warning. Biting his lip to stem the flow, he turned to wipe his cheek on the pillow before Bones saw.

He was cured, but Bones was still leaving. Holding his silence a second too long, he drew Bones' attention.

“Don’t look so relieved,” Bones growled.

“What does it matter?”

“It matters a whole lot! I’m leaving, but that doesn’t mean I want you dead.”

"You're throwing everything away without even trying."

"There's nothing to be done, Jim. It's the way things are, now." Bones shrugged, and the tension seemed to lift from his shoulders. "I'll have some damn good memories to take with me."

Watching the earnest expression on Bones' face, it dawned on Jim that he had the power to impede his departure. As a husband, he couldn't stop him, but as Dr. McCoy's commanding officer, he could prevent him from leaving the ship. If Bones wanted to leave, then he’d charge him with desertion, and Bones would answer to Starfleet Code of Military Justice. He would transport him back to Earth to face trial. They would be far away from Elaan, and this star system, and perhaps Bones only needed distance to break the compulsion.

He pushed the comm next to his bed. "Kirk to Spock."

_Yes, Captain._

"My location, Mr. Spock."

_Aye, Captain._

No doubt, Spock had been waiting outside his room, because he appeared within seconds.

"Dr. McCoy," Jim said, addressing Bones in his most professional manner. "My orders still stand. You are relieved of duty, and are to be placed in the brig. You are charged with insubordination and attempting to desert to a suspected enemy. You’ll be transported by the Enterprise to Earth, where you’ll face trial, and possible court martial."

"Jim, now quit fooling around!"

"I suggest you stop there, doctor," Jim said. "You're lucky it’s only these charges. There's a long list of offenses you've committed."

Bones looked like he was about to rend Jim limb from limb, then put him back together, just so he could do it again.

"Careful," Jim warned. He didn't intend to hand Bones over for judgment, but he needed to buy some time until questions could be answered. If Bones crossed a line they couldn't come back from, it would make it that more difficult. 

“Yes, _sir,"_ Bones said, then shut his mouth.

"Spock? Have the doctor escorted to the brig." Spock didn't so much as blink at the orders. He called for two security ensigns, and they led Bones away.

Jim feared Bones would never forgive him, but if Jim didn't do something to fix this, he would never forgive himself.

Laying back on the pillow, he rested his eyes for a moment. Spock stood silent by his bedside, letting him ruminate, but understanding his need for company.

Jim wished Pike was here. He was navigating uncharted stars, and he could use some fatherly advice. He had a legacy to fulfill, not just for the name 'Kirk,' but also for Christopher Pike.  He was the one man who bet on him, and believed in him before any others. His duty to Pike was to be the best, and this business with Bones clouded that. He didn't want to choose, and if he didn't think of something soon, he’d have to make some difficult decisions.

"Did I do the right thing, Spock?"

He didn't answer right away, seeming to contemplate an answer Jim wanted to hear that still conveyed the truth. Vulcans didn't lie, nor did they placate someone's sensibilities, so Jim was painfully aware what it meant for Spock to answer his question.

"Captain, I am unfamiliar with many human customs as well as emotions. The past few years I have served aboard the Enterprise, and serving under your command, I have come to realize a few things."

"What’s that?"

"Just because I am Vulcan, does not mean we do not love, nor does it mean we do not recognize love when we see it. Nyota has taught me many things, but it was my mother who showed me a human's capacity for love. It comes in many forms in this universe. I dare not use the word hope, that is a human failing, but because I am half human, I will endeavor to believe in something greater than my own sensibilities.” Spock paused a moment, and Jim thought he might have been finished, but then he tilted his head, giving him the courtesy of looking him in the eye. "I believe the love you and Dr. McCoy share, can overcome the greatest of hardships."

 

=/\=

 

"Captain, I must insist you get your rest," M'Benga said, walking into Jim's room with a PADD in hand. "My orders were no more than one visitor at a time."

"I know, Geoff. And they're not visitors," Jim said, smiling at Spock and Uhura. "Christine? Are you visiting or working?"

"Don't drag me into this," she said with her hands on her hip.

"Now that we have that straightened out," Jim said. "I want to know what's happening with the research, and what's happening on my ship." Until M'Benga had a working antidote, Jim was ordered to stay in medical. He never did well with being idle, so he wanted updates on the Klingons, and to look over everything Uhura and Spock had found on Elasian tears. "From the reports I've read,” Jim added, “there’s no way to counteract it."

"I'm afraid not," Uhura said, reaching out to squeeze his leg. "I've sent out numerous transmissions asking for records where the compound was neutralized. Many have tried, but none have been successful. I'm sorry, Jim."

"I think distance should help," Christine said. "The further away from her influence, the symptoms might subside. Locking him up should do him some good." She was still bristling over being shoved into a quarantine room, and given the slip by Bones.

"Or it could drive him stark-raving mad," Jim said. "The truth is, we don't know what effect distance will have if we try to separate them."

"Captain," Spock said, "the Lieutenant and I have been discussing something we would like you to consider."

"Go on."

Spock looked at Uhura, then back to Jim. "Perhaps the Lieutenant would be more suited to discuss the matter."

She took a deep breath, drawing it out slowly like she might explode if she didn't. He watched while she wrung her hands, and when he thought he couldn't take the suspense, she blurted out, "He still loves you!"

The silence in the room unnerved him, and he looked away swallowing.

"I know he does," she continued. "We all saw it when you collapsed earlier. He was genuinely afraid for you, and not to mention the yelling, and barking orders while we rushed you here. He wouldn't let anyone touch you, ordering everyone out while he worked on you. He was back to his old self. It was like the adrenaline kicked in, and it overpowered whatever hold the compound has on him. He was Leonard. He's still there."

"But he's not," Jim said, a little quicker than he intended. Apparently the hurt was deep. "He told me as much when I woke up."

"I think it's partially the compound, and partially psychological; like patients on drug trials," she said. "Some are given the actual treatment, while others receive a sugar pill to establish a baseline. They all think they’re getting better, even though some are not."

"What are you getting at?" Jim asked her.

"We could use that," Uhura said, looking to Spock.

"However illogical it may seem, the human mind is relatively uncharted. Stranger things have happened."

"Spock, spit it out."

His dark eyebrow shot upward before he spoke. "I suggest we give Dr. McCoy a placebo drug, and convince him it is a cure."

"You mean lie."

"Vulcans do not lie, Captain. I am merely suggesting a slight persuasion of the truth."

To his right, M'Benga grunted, mumbling something about risk, while Christine scoffed.

"He's the best doctor in Starfleet, not an idiot," Christine said what Jim was thinking. "He'll want to see the science behind it, before letting us inject him with anything."

"Not if we have the Dohlman tell Leonard it's the cure,” Uhura said. “She's been cooperative. We could have her present it to him. He'll believe anything she tells him."

Jim doubted Elaan would oblige unless she got something in return. Bargaining her freedom wasn't something he was prepared to do for a possibility. Bones was too smart for this plan. What they needed to do was complete the mission to Troyius, relieve the Enterprise of the Dohlman, and then jolt Bones' brain into thinking he was cured.

"Seems like a lot of 'ifs,'" Jim said. "Even if we get her to agree, Bones will need results, some kind of proof the serum worked."

"We could shoot him full of epinephrine," M'Benga offered. "The adrenaline seemed to temporarily block the compound. We could follow it up with dopamine, and it might present the illusion you're looking for."

"I don't want to give him a heart attack, Geoff!" Jim didn't like this plan at all, and the key word Geoff had used was 'temporary.' Even if they shot Bones full of the cocktail, it wouldn't last. Bones needed something more to believe in the cure. "There has to be something at stake for him. The adrenaline shot isn't enough. He thought I was dying, he needs to experience something like that again."

"If you think M'Benga and I are going to let your heart stop just to prove a point, you have another think coming!" Christine waved a finger in his face, proving her tough constitution. "Leonard doesn't need a martyr!"

"I'm already dying, Christine. We'll just prolong it some more."

"And what you don't realize is that your body doesn’t have much longer. You want to get the Dohlman off your ship? Then you need to take that antidote, now."

"She's right, Jim," M'Benga said. "In fact, I was just coming to tell you we’ll have something within the hour."

"Then we stage it. Let Bones think you're still working on the antidote. Give me something to make me crash." Jim gave them a promising smile.

"Even if what you're saying is true, the timing will never work," Geoff said. "We'd have to inject Dr. McCoy with the cocktail, while you go into cardiac arrest. It's too risky."

"Captain, I must agree with Dr. M'Benga," Spock said. "There are too many variables."

"The events don't need to happen all at once—I would hope not, anyway. But it does need to happen. Bones is stubborn. It won't work unless we can trick his brain."

Uhura and Christine started protesting, but Jim turned his attentions toward Spock. He understood the risks, but he also knew the lengths Jim would go to save Bones. He would recognize what needed to be done, and he would do it for him. "Spock?"

The arguments fell silent, and the air in the room felt heavy with the expectation of Spock's answer. He waited, like usual, drawing out his decision until he had examined all possible outcomes.

"Captain," Spock said, "I do not understand your continuous need to question me on things which you have already made up your mind about."

"Call it emotional security, Spock," Jim said, and laughed. "It gives me comfort when we bicker."

"Indeed."

"I'll want to speak to the Dohlman before we move ahead with this plan," Jim said, feeling the victory.

"You two are thick as thieves!" Christine said. "When Leonard finds out—"

"He can never know," Jim cut in, sharp and abrupt. "We don't know how strong the bond is. If this is going to work, he has to believe in a cure. Nothing leaves this room."

The silence was back, but this time Uhura broke it. "Jim's right. For all we know, Leonard could regress if he finds out the truth. We can never tell him."

Everyone turned their gaze on Christine, knowing she was the most likely to break her confidence, since they worked so closely together.

Christine threw her arms up in the air. "Well, I suppose it's not like we're lying to him. It'll be one hell of a cure if it does work. And for the record," she added, heading toward the doors, but stopping before they opened, "this is an asinine plan. But on this ship, I've seen worse."

 


	8. Chapter 8

Jim had Uhura alert Starfleet to his predicament, and sent a long range transmission to Troyius, letting them know their arrival would be delayed. He brought Elaan to the medbay without the Ambassador's knowledge. Jim thought it wise to have a private discussion with her, so he kept her guards outside.

"I'm not sure where all this went wrong," Jim volunteered, beginning the conversation on what he hoped was equal ground. "But I believe we can come to some kind of resolution."

"No one was meant to be harmed, Captain," she said, "least of all you. This poison is well known on Elas. It comes from a plant—grows like a weed. I had no knowledge of its presence in my party. It is unclear who brought it aboard, or who exposed you to it. I can assure you, the perpetrator did not act on my orders, and no one would dare defy me."

It wasn't exactly an apology, but Jim didn't think this woman had that word in her vocabulary. "It had to come from one of the ten people in your party."

"If it did, they will be brought to _Elasian_ justice when I discover who is responsible."

"I can appreciate that, Elaan," he said, and found himself smiling at her insistence to assert herself.

She fiddled with the jewels hanging around her neck. They looked familiar, garish in their appearance, and heavy atop her breast. She seemed nervous, Jim thought, and couldn't imagine why. He was much less intimidating lying in a bed, half naked and lacking the strength to stand. He had conceded to the antidote, or rather his body had, giving out one last time before M'Benga had produced the hypospray. He injected Jim before he could protest, which meant his plan to create a spectacle in front of Bones had been scrapped, and now, Jim was resolved to seek the Dohlman's help.

Their shared animosity from earlier was surprisingly absent, and for the first time since she had been brought aboard, Jim felt at ease in her presence. It seemed Uhura and Christine were right; much had changed with 'Her Glory.'

"As for your doctor," she began, then paused, unsure how to continue. "If I had known he was spoken for, I would not have chosen him."

"You planned this."

She looked briefly at her hands, and then met his eyes. "I needed someone on this ship who was on my side—devoted to me."

"So if it wasn't Dr. McCoy, it would have been someone else in my crew."

"Not someone. _You_ , Captain. But you were proving rather...difficult." She gave him a brief smile, but it didn't ease Jim's outrage like she hoped.

He didn't want to think what would have happened if he'd been under her influence—a Starfleet Captain at the beck and call of a self-serving woman. If he had acted anything like Bones, he might have handed her the Enterprise, or worse, led the Klingons directly into the hangar bay.

"Do you have any idea what you could have done?" Jim asked, but managed to keep his temper in check. "What was the deal you made?"

Shifting in her seat, she let his question stand for a moment. "They would see me safely off your ship, and in exchange, they would have first trading rights on Elas."

"How do you expect to offer this? Elaan, if you do this, you know you can't go back to your planet."

"The Klingons do not know this, and the only thing that matters to me is stopping this arrangement."

Jim couldn't quite grasp just how selfish she was. The full ramifications of her plans hit him at once, and it felt like a punch to the gut. "You risked the lives aboard my ship, and potentially hundreds of thousands when a war started between the Klingon Empire and Elas. A war your planet would never win. Do you have any idea the damage you might have caused?"

"Once I got back to Elas, I would make my father understand. Force him if I must."

He knew what kind of force she intended. God help the men of Elas, Jim thought. "Elaan," he said with a sharp edge to his tone, "you have no idea what you've done. Do you?"

"I do not intend to be married," she snapped, but then managed to look somewhat sheepish by her outburst. "None of this changes my predicament."

"It changes everything. The Ambassador—"

"—Is nothing but a dog," Elaan said between gritted teeth. "He does not serve the people of Elas. He only serves himself."

"And do you serve the people of Elas?"

"Of course."

He had a hard time believing that, but the conviction in her voice kept this conversation going. There was passion in her eyes when she spoke of her planet, and she believed her words.

"Then you understand you have a duty to your people, Elaan. I'm not saying I agree with what you’re being forced to do, but you owe it to both nations to reach a peaceful resolution. You don't know what will happen once you get to Troyius. You have options, but running away is not the answer. Believe me, if anyone understands that, it's me." He could hear Pike's voice, the one berating him for his lack of humility, and he didn't want to preach to Elaan, but he recognized the same reckless, destructive behavior. If he could stop her from making an irreversible mistake, one she would ultimately pay for with her life, or the lives of others, he had to try.

"Sometimes growing up and accepting responsibility is the only course of action," Jim said.

"Are you calling me a child?"

"No, I'm saying your actions are that of a child." She was a beautiful woman. Jim wouldn't go so far as to call her 'remarkable,' like Bones had on numerous occasions, but there was depth hidden beneath her spoiled princess façade. Missions came and went, and the memories faded as more piled up, but the woman sitting before him had destroyed his world in a matter of hours, and now she sat across from him humble and somewhat naïve. If they got out of this mess, he didn't know what he would take away from this encounter, but Elaan would be one he would remember for a long time.

"I think you're more intelligent than you lead people to believe," Jim said. "Humility can be an asset, you know, and you're about to become a very powerful woman on a planet that will look to you for leadership."

He let his words settle with her, leaving her to contemplate them before he preached some more. She studied him, watching him with a careful eye. Jim fought the urge to fidget, meeting her glower instead. When he thought he couldn’t stand it any longer, he saw the moment she accepted his words.

"How did a man such as you become a captain?"

"A man such as me?" Jim laughed.

"One so young."

He shook his head as he kept laughing. "It's a long story, and a remarkable one, if I do say so, but I didn't get here on my own. There were a lot of good people who helped."

"Your doctor."

"Dr. McCoy is definitely one of them."

"On my planet, it is not uncommon to marry for convenience rather than love." She didn't phrase it as a question, but Jim didn't miss the intention behind her statement.

"Marriages of convenience do happen on Earth, but for the most part, people marry because they want to commit themselves to that one person."

"Marriage for love?" She glanced at the metal band on his finger.

"Yes, for love. I'm not an easy man to love, but for some inexplicable reason, Dr. McCoy does love me."

"And you are certain of this."

Up until the last few days, he had never doubted Bones' love, but he'd never been faced by the bold question; he just accepted it as truth. Elaan's question hung in the air like a black cloud of doubt, swirling in circles, with the potential to create a vortex of uncertainty.

Who was he to give advice to this woman? What did he know of love?

One summer, when he was a kid, barely old enough to see over the kitchen counter, there was a dog he thought he loved. It wasn't his dog, but whenever Jim walked into town, the dog appeared out of nowhere, following him until they reached the Records Hall. They'd sit on the steps, watching people come and go, and when the sun was no longer high in the sky, they'd make their journey back home.

Sometimes it was into town, and sometimes it was the pond behind the Miller's cornfields, but every day that summer, they spent the long, lonely afternoons together. He didn't even have a name for the dog, but there was hardly a day where they weren't seen together. He was a scrappy little thing, like Jim, and the dog never asked anything of him, other than a friendly scratch behind the ear, which he obliged, and Jim spoke to him like he understood everything he said. He was his best and only friend, and for a few hours every day, Jim's burdens were lessened.

But then the call of school came, signaling the end of summer, and Jim's days were devoted elsewhere, and he never saw the dog again. Perhaps the dog was just as bitter of Jim’s abandonment, but the hole the dog's disappearance left was vast, bigger than the one left behind by his mother, and a young Jim vowed never to feel that way again. He kept that promise, skirting through life without getting too close to anything or anyone—until a belligerent, bedraggled doctor dropped into his life.

Was Jim certain of love?

"I like to think so," he said, thinking fondly of the past. Bones lessened his burdens, and never asked for anything in return—well, not anything Jim wasn't willing to give.

"Do you truly love him?" she asked.

He wasn't about to discuss how deep it went with Bones, but he could answer her truthfully. "He makes me want to be a better man."

A silence surrounded them, weighted not by unease, but of understanding, and Jim could see the longing in her eyes.

"One day I hope to have that," she said. "Someone who challenges me."

"You still might. Love doesn’t have to be instant." He reached out his hand, and she took it. Squeezing it gently, he smiled. "Just don’t let him near your tears."

Releasing his hand, she laughed, but it was filled with reservation. "Perhaps."

The silence was back, but this time, they both knew the intention behind it.

"Has distance ever helped break the connection?" he asked.

"I am unsure. No one has ever left my planet, but I am willing to assist you with anything you need."

"I do need your help," Jim said.

"Anything."

They spent a while going over Jim and Spock's plan, ironing out the details, with Elaan adding suggestions where she could. When they finished, Jim was confident, but unusually quiet.

"Is there something you wish to ask?" she said.

"It's just…I have to know…" Jim had difficulty saying the words. "Did you…well…did you and Dr. McCoy…. Did anything…"

"What does it matter what words I say?"

"I want to know the truth."

"But should that not come from your husband? Whatever I say will not be the truth you need to hear. You do not trust me. My word means nothing to you. It is him you must believe."

Jim chuckled. "Look who's teaching me about love now? Touché, Your Glory."

=/\=

His body was on the mend, the poison had been neutralized, and Jim could feel the strength returning to his limbs. Lying in the biobed was part of the pretense; he just hoped everyone could play their part.

"You sure you want to do this?" Christine asked, standing beside the bed. He didn’t bother answering her; she knew he wouldn't change his mind.

The door opened to the Dohlman and the Ambassador, followed by her entourage, including Bones, who was escorted by two Starfleet security ensigns. The room was cramped with too many people, but the chaos would work in their favor.

"Jim, why are you still in that bed?" Bones asked, taking a few steps toward him. "Where's the antidote?"

Like Jim and Elaan had discussed, she had her men restrain Bones from venturing any further toward Jim. Spock had temporarily disabled the sensors from the biobed, looping them to an alternate program, which showed Jim's failing vitals from hours earlier. It wasn't perfect, but unless Bones got close to Jim, or the readings, it would fool him into thinking Jim's condition was still critical.

Bones struggled against the hands holding him, cursing at Elaan's guards, but he stilled when he heard her voice.

"Do not embarrass me, Leonard," she said, and despite their earlier friendliness, Jim still hated the way she said his name.

Bones relaxed, and the guards released their grip. Straightening his shirt, he sought out M'Benga. "What the hell is going on, Geoff?"

M'Benga kept his gaze diverted, staring at the sensors as he answered with a hint of distraction. "We're having some difficulties synthesizing the Dohlman's antidote."

"And you call yourself a medical professional? This is 101 stuff, Geoff!"

"Bones," Jim said in warning. He didn't need Bones saying something insulting he couldn't take back.

But M'Benga wasn't rattled by his behavior, in fact, he played his part perfectly. "As you're aware, the captain has certain… _anomalies_ in his biochemistry. We haven't been able to replicate alternatives that won't affect the captain."

"He's allergic to the antidote?" Bones said, raising his eyebrow, and turning toward the bed. "Goddammit, Jim."

Jim shrugged. "Sorry, Bones." Spock triggered the alarms remotely, and the sensors on the bed beeped rapidly. He winced to play up the pain.

"How much longer?" Bones asked.

"It's hard to say," Christine added, reaching out to stroke Jim's arm. "We're making him as comfortable as possible." She fluffed up his pillow, and with her back to Bones, Christine rolled her eyes at Jim, shooting him a 'your stupid-ass plan better work' glare.

"As comfortable as—" Bones said. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Leonard," the Dohlman said, "we must prepare for our departure. You are here to say goodbye. So be done with it, and let us leave this ship."

"I can't leave like this," Leonard said. "You promised no one would get hurt."

Jim didn't need Spock's program to elevate his pulse, his irritation did it for him.

"You dare defy me?” the Dohlman asked. She didn't raise her voice, but there was a challenge to her tone that caused Bones to concede. Jim saw it, and so did everyone else in the room.

"No, Your Glory," Bones said, eyes downcast.

"The captain has graciously agreed to give us one of his shuttles. That is, provided we make our way to a planet outside the Federation's jurisdiction."

"Your Glory," the Ambassador spoke, his eyes wide with alarm. "We must respect the agreement made with the Klingons."

"Do not question me," she snapped, but he didn’t back down.

"But we have made a deal with the Commander."

"And I have changed my mind."

"You cannot do this," the Ambassador took a step toward her, hands fisted at his sides.

"Enough!" Elaan yelled. "Leave this room. We will discuss your insubordination, but for now, you will do as you are told. Go back to your quarters, and prepare for our departure."

The Ambassador's eyes narrowed with fury, but he dared not speak again. Clasping his hands, he bowed his head, slinking out of the room without taking his eyes off Elaan's already turned back.

If there was any doubt to the Ambassador's loyalty, Jim didn't doubt it now. Elaan had been right, there was something more to the man's motives, and he wondered whom he actually served. Jim signaled to Watson, the ensign at the door, silently letting him know the Ambassador was to be followed. The door shut behind the two, leaving the room silent after the upheaval.

Elaan, not missing a beat, turned to Bones. "I am waiting, Leonard." She never broke character, not even for a furtive glance at Jim.

"It's okay, Bones. Her Glory and I had a long talk. I understand now. You're free to go. I wish you happiness." The lie hurt just to let it cross his lips. Spock chose that time to ramp up the sensors, and it felt like his heart beat in time to the elevated beeping.

Bones took a step forward, but Elaan's guards gripped his arms again. Straining to see the biobed sensors, Bones tried to make out what was happening with Jim's body.

With Bones distracted, Christine pretended to adjust something on the monitor, bowed her head, then whispered, "Here we go."

"Dammit, Jim! Damn each and every one of you!" Bones yelled, struggling against the guard's hold. "Let go of me, you addle-brained fools!"

"Leonard, stop this display at once."

"Please, Your Glory," Leonard begged. "I know Jim's physiology better than anyone. I can fix him. Let me try to find a working antidote."

"There is no time," Elaan said with a wave of her hand. "The rendezvous window is small. We miss the opportunity if we do not go now." She paused, reaching a hand to his cheek to calm him. Narrowing her eyes, she gripped his chin, tilting it down toward her. "Unless, of course, you wish to stay, Leonard. Do you want this cure they speak of? Do you wish to leave me?"

"No, I told you. I don't need a cure." Bones took a deep breath. "I'm going with you."

"Then choose," she said, shrugging like this was the easiest decision in the galaxy. The corner of her lip turned up in a sneer. "Your Glory, or your captain."

Spock had remained by Jim's side, his hands behind his back, holding the device that controlled the sensors. When his eyes met Jim's, Spock nodded briefly, and then the sensor alarms went ballistic, beeping erratically. Jim fell back into the pillow, teeth clenched, and displaying signs of an apparent seizure.

Christine and M'Benga performed admirably in this dramatic re-enactment, while Jim continued to writhe on the bed. He heard Bones cry out, and from the corner of his eye, Jim saw him grasping at his head, shouting obscenities at the guards who still held him tight.

"Jim!" Bones yelled. "Dammit man, let me go to him! Geoff, tell me what's happening."

"Bring him," Elaan said, snapping her fingers at her guards. They started to drag Bones away, but he dug his heels in to stop them.

Jim was aware of everything happening around him, even if he couldn't see all of it. He felt a brief pinch at his shoulder, and then heard the alarms flat line, signaling the stop of his heart. M'Benga's hands fluttered over him, shouting orders at Christine while she lowered his bed. Their performance was stellar, working on him as though his life truly depended on their actions. He could hear Bones struggling, and his guilt almost put an end to it, but then the room echoed with a roar.

"All right!" The brawling stopped, and the only sound Jim heard were frantic breaths, gasping at air. "I'll do it. Forgive me, Your Glory, please. You have to understand. I can't leave like this."

M'Benga and Christine's hands stilled, and Jim fought the urge to open an eye to find Bones, but Christine pressed her finger deeply into his shoulder in warning. The sensors stabilized, but Jim purposely stayed under. Straining his ears, he soaked up every movement, and subtle shift, from everyone in the room.

"He's stable for now," Geoff said, and his hands moved away from Jim's chest. He spouted off some technical babble to Christine, most likely for Bones' benefit, and then ordered another hypospray for him. He tried not to wince when Christine stuck him in the neck, even though he knew it was nothing more than glucose, he still hated the things.

"Leonard," Elaan said, her voice unyielding. "You choose your captain, over me?"

"No," Leonard choked out. "I choose to save a life." The pain in Bones' voice clawed at Jim's chest. "Can't you see that? No one needs to die. I can save him, but if this is the only way, then…I have to stay."

"Dr. McCoy?" M'Benga asked with concern in his voice.

Jim couldn't hold off any longer. He took the risk, cracking open an eye, searching for Bones. He was across the room, clutching at his head, pulling at his hair, like he was tearing at something inside his skull. He was in physical pain, and Jim couldn't abide by that. There had been no regard about Bones' safety in this plan, and Jim had to put a stop to it. His leg twitched, ready to jump up from the bed, but Spock's calm hand on his shoulder reassured him to hold out a little longer.

Bones straightened, scowling at M'Benga. "Just give me the damn shot."

There was some rustling, Jim didn't dare move or even breathe, not when they were so close. They could easily keep Elaan away from Bones, and deliver her safely to Troyius, but they had to continue this until Bones was convinced he was cured.

He thought he heard the faint hiss of a hypospray, but then it was masked by the sound of a loud, explosive boom. The ship lurched, and everyone was knocked off their feet. Jim's eyes snapped open, and he jolted upright, leaning toward the console.

"Mr. Sulu, report!"

Spock was out the doors before Sulu answered the comm. Jim turned to M'Benga. "Get me on my feet, Doc." Christine was already handing him his pants and boots, while M'Benga removed the sensor pads taped to his chest.

_Captain, there's been an explosion in Engineering._

"Kirk to Engineering."

_Aye, Captain. We have a bit of a problem._

Jim put on his pants, he rather would have done it without an audience, but it couldn't be helped. He avoided the look on Bones' face. His arms rested at his sides, and his expression displayed every bit of confusion and betrayal Jim expected.

"What happened?" Jim said into the comm.

 _Ambassador Kryton is what happened,_ Scotty said.

"Explain." Jim pulled his command shirt over his head.

_A bomb took out the warp core._

"A bomb? Injuries?"

_Aye. Watson's dead. We'll also need a medical team._

Jim glanced to Christine and M'Benga, nodding as they started to gather supplies.

"Can you fix it?"

_Not unless you have some spare dilithium crystals lying about._

Jim cursed under his breath. This entire mission had been one clusterfuck after another. He had to get these people off his ship. He turned to Elaan, leveling her with a stare that could shoot daggers right through her.

"You did this." He pointed a finger at her. "Another part of your plan?"

She shook her head, looking just as shocked as he felt.

"Scotty, where is the Ambassador now?"

_Dinnae ken. He took out Watson, planted the bomb, and left._

Jim called for a manhunt for the Ambassador, and ordered Elaan and her party to be taken into custody.

_Bridge to Captain Kirk._

"Go ahead, Mr. Spock."

_The Klingons are hailing us._

"Of course they are," Jim mumbled under his breath, then answered the comm. "I'll be right there."

"Jim?" Bones asked, his voice quiet, and stunned.

"I'm sorry, Bones." He didn't stick around to hear anything further. He ran out the door, and it wasn't until he was halfway down the corridor he realized Bones was chasing after him.

"Jim! Wait a minute! You can't go running like this. You need to keep your heart rate down."

Jim didn't slow down though, partially because he needed to get to the bridge, and partially because he didn't want to face Bones with his lies. He was suddenly ashamed of what he had put him through, and the charade they had conjured. It seemed childish and petty, now that his ship was under attack, and the lives of his crew were at stake.

"Jim!" Bones yelled one more time as Jim stepped into the turbolift.

He willed the doors to close, but luck wasn't on his side today. Bones slipped in, just as the doors shut, pushing the override button to stop the lift.

"What the hell is going on?"

"I'm sorry, Bones," Jim said again. "We can't do this right now."

"I know that, Jim, but only minutes ago you were dying on that bed, now you're running around like nothing happened."

"I'm fine."

"Like hell you are!"

"I'm fine!" Jim snapped, pushing the button to start the turbolift again.

Realization dawned on Bones' face, and it was as though he had taken an arrow to his heart. "You lied. It was all a lie."

"We had to get you to agree to take the cure," he said quietly, maintaining some of the lie as he stared straight ahead at the doors.

"Why?"

"We just did." The doors opened to reveal the bridge, and Jim didn't have the luxury of continuing the conversation, and he was grateful for that.

 


	9. Chapter 9

As Jim sunk in his chair, his eyes swept to Bones who was still in the turbolift. Uncertainty was written in his expression, and Jim thought he looked misplaced.

"Dr. McCoy," Spock said, tilting his head, and in those two simple words, he was asking Bones where he stood, challenging him to join them, and be a part of the crew, or admonishing him to get off the bridge. Jim wished he could say as much in so few of words. He held his breath, waiting for what Bones would do, and when the doors slid shut, he resisted the urge to turn around. But then he felt the familiar presence to his left, and he sat up a little straighter.

"On screen, Lieutenant," Jim said to Uhura.

The black flickered, fading to reveal the command center of the bird-of-prey. A face stepped into view, purely Klingon, and radiating power.

 _I am Commander Karlok. And you are Captain Kirk._ The guttural pronunciation of his name was meant to be intimidating, but Jim was too outraged to even flinch.

"I see my reputation precedes itself," Jim said, effortlessly slipping into the role of command.

 _Prepare to be boarded,_ Karlok said.

"I don't think so." Jim crossed his legs, aloof, like he was sitting down to a tea party.

 _Our sensors indicate you are losing power, Captain,_ Karlock said. _It won't be long before your shields fail. Surrender or be destroyed._

Without the warp core, there was no chance for escape. And Karlok was correct, they were bleeding power from somewhere. He disrupted the communication for some privacy.

"Scotty, talk to me."

_Captain, the wee bastard did more damage than we thought. We're losing power and fast. The blast destroyed the dilithium crystals._

"How long before you get us back online?"

_I’m no sure I can, sir. We dinnae have the resources to fix the crystals. And without the matter-antimatter reactor, we cannot generate enough power to run the ship at full capacity._

"Do what you can, Scotty. We're sitting ducks here, and we may need a quick getaway. In the meantime, divert all non-essential power to forward shields."

_Ach, I'll do my best, but I make no promises. You may have to play nice with the Klingons, Captain._

"Let's hope not, Mr. Scott. Kirk out."

Jim motioned to Uhura, and the screen filled with Commander Karlok's face again.

_You have confirmed what I already told you, Kirk. Your ship is losing power with no hope of repair._

"Let's cut to the quick," Jim said. "What are your terms?"

_Surrender the Dohlman and her party, and the Enterprise is free to go._

"What do you want with the Dohlman?" Jim asked, trying to drag this out as long as he could. He had to give Scotty time to get them out of this mess, or whatever chance they had would be over before it begun.

 _We have an arrangement,_ Karlok said.

"Well," Jim said, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair, "I'm pretty sure your arrangement has changed."

 _Is that so?_ Karlok asked. _Perhaps you will let the Dohlman speak for herself._

"Very well," Jim said. "Standby." The view screen cut back to space, and the bridge crew let out their breaths in unison.

"Jim, you can't hand her over to the Klingons," Bones said.

He didn't acknowledge Bones, though. He continued without the distraction, and turned to Spock. "Bring the Dohlman to the bridge, and find the Ambassador. We're going to get to the bottom of this."

"The Ambassador is in custody," Spock said. "Security is on their way to the bridge."

"Jim—"

"Mr. Sulu, how close are we to Troyius?" Ignoring Bones was the only way he would get through this.

Sulu pushed a few buttons on his console. "Even at warp six, we're still over seven hours away."

"Seven hours, thirty-three minutes, and fourteen seconds," Spock added.

"Lieutenant Uhura, send a distress call to the planet, and alert Starfleet."

The bridge doors opened, and Elaan and Kryton were escorted out of the turbolift. Worry plagued her face, but the Ambassador looked downright smug.

"Ambassador Kryton," Jim said, "you want to tell me why you planted a bomb on my ship?"

The Ambassador stayed silent, but the Dohlman seemed to gather her wits. It was obvious she was shell-shocked, except Jim saw the beginnings of a leader hidden in the depths of her expression. "Answer him," she said.

"I am no longer your pawn," Kryton said.

_Engineering to the Bridge._

"Go ahead, Scotty."

The engineer's face filled the screen, his hair was disheveled, and there was a cut along his hairline crusted with dried blood. His shoulders slumped forward, and Jim recognized the look of defeat.

_Captain, I'm afraid it's bad news. The crystals are too far-gone to be salvaged. We cannae get the warp core back online._

"And the power?"

_We've managed to find the cause of the drain, but without the core, we cannae boost the power. We're no longer losing power, but we're no exactly gaining any, either._

"You have to give me more than that, Scotty. We need a solution that doesn't involve the surrender of this ship."

 _I'm sorry, sir. I've done all I can, unless you have some spare cryst—_ Scotty's eyes went wide, then he squinted, narrowing in on something on the bridge. He took off running, leaving the view screen empty.

"Mr. Scott," Jim said. "Scotty!" But there was no answer, just the remnants of smoke from the explosion wafting about Engineering.

"Your ship is dying, Captain. But you don't have to," Ambassador Kryton said. "You have no choice but to surrender."

"There's always a choice, Ambassador," Jim said with as much optimism as he could muster.

"What deal did you broker behind my back, you miserable swine?" The Dohlman asked.

"Not everyone wants peace, _Your Glory_." Kryton's face was flushed, his eyes wide with conviction. "In fact, there are a number of Elasians who'd rather die than see an alliance with Troyius. Your father bent to the will of the Federation. He is weak, and Elas needs a strong leader. You will be our bargaining chip."

"You traitorous dog!" She slapped him hard across the cheek. He tried to retaliate, raising his hand to hit her back, but Bones intervened. He grabbed hold of the Ambassador, and then swung his free hand, punching him in the nose. It happened fast, and Jim's reaction time was stunted by his shock. He didn't move until Bones went to hit him again.  Jumping out of his chair, Jim restrained Bones, holding him around the arms, and pulled him away. He didn't have his strength back, and he'd forgotten just how strong Bones could be when he was riled up, but he held tight.

"You bastard," Bones spat at the Ambassador. "Did you poison the Captain, too?"

The Ambassador laughed through bloody teeth, giving them all the answer they needed. "A casualty of war."

The bridge doors opened, and Scotty slid to a halt, cautiously eyeing up the scene.

"What'd I miss?" he asked, eyes sweeping to Jim holding Bones, then over to Spock who held the Ambassador.

"Captain, the Klingons are hailing us again." As usual, Uhura was stoic, not ruffled by any of the events.

Jim's heart was pounding in his ears, his breaths coming hard and quick. Bones relaxed in his arms, but he didn't want to let go. Their eyes met, and it felt like ages since Jim felt that gaze on him. He looked as crazed as Jim felt, but remorse had manifested as well. Straightening his uniform, Jim took a deep breath, and then felt Bones' hand settle briefly on the small of his back. He drew strength from it before turning back to his chair.

"Captain, wait!" Scotty said. All eyes turned to him, anticipating the reason behind his abrupt appearance on the bridge. Taking a few steps toward Elaan, he carefully raised a hand. "May I?"

Elaan looked to the Captain in confusion.

"What is it, Scotty?"

"These wee baubles," Scotty said. "How did you come by them?"

"These?" Elaan asked, removing her necklace.

The Ambassador shifted on his feet, trying to break free of Spock's grip.

"These are nothing but rocks from my planet," Elaan said. "We call them radans. Abundant at all the markets."

Scotty wheeled around to Jim. "Do ye ken what those are, Captain?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Dilithium crystals!" His face was alight with wonder. "Well, no really. They're raw and all, but they should be enough to power the warp core."

Spock passed the Ambassador to the two security ensigns, then leaned in to take a closer look. Kryton was fully protesting now, and if what Scotty thought was true, and those rocks were as abundant as Elaan said, then Jim knew exactly what kind of deal Kryton had brokered with the Klingons. And it was no wonder the Federation was desperate to have Elas as an ally.

"Captain," Spock said. "There is no way to determine how the crystals will react. They are crude in their current state."

"Oh, aye, Mr. Spock. But I think we can work with them."

"Are you sure, Scotty?" Jim asked.

"Well, it's no like we have a choice, do we?" Scotty said.

Jim felt the balance scale tip in his favor. He was the luckiest bastard in the galaxy. He wouldn't have thought so mere hours ago, but when it counted, sometimes Jim had a proverbially horseshoe up his ass.

"How long before the core is operational?"

"I dinnae ken," Scotty started moving toward the doors, "but stall them as long as you can!" He was gone before Jim could respond.

"You should have taken the deal," Ambassador Kryton yelled. "You could have walked away, Kirk."

"Put the Ambassador in the brig," Jim said. He caught Bones' inquisitive eye, and felt a fluttering in his stomach before taking his seat. A part of him wanted to throw his hands up in the air, and drag Bones to their quarters, and let Spock get them out of this mess. But like he'd said to Bones, there were a million things in this galaxy you could have, and a million you couldn't.

"Captain," Uhura said, "the Klingons are demanding an audience."

"On screen, Lieutenant."

The face of the formidable Commander replaced the black of space. _Captain Kirk, have you considered the terms of your surrender?_

"I have," Jim said, leaning back in his chair. "And I'm afraid I was right. The Dohlman does not wish to leave the Enterprise."

_A deal was made, Kirk. She cannot dishonor the agreement, and walk away with her life._

"Her Glory is a guest of the USS Enterprise, and we are on Federation business, so unless you want to start a war with the Federation, you'll be on your way."

Karlok laughed, a deep belly laugh, rocking in his chair.

"And here I thought Klingons didn't laugh," Jim said.

_We do when there is occasion to. You are in no position to offer terms. But I admire your courage, Captain._

It was Jim's turn to laugh, a taunting chuckle while he shook his head in disagreement. "Last I checked, there was nothing wrong with our torpedoes. What makes you think we'll give up without a fight?"

_Despite that reputation of yours, Kirk, I think you know when you have been beaten._

"I do," Jim said. He was in his element, and relished in it. "Mr. Chekov, arm photon torpedoes."

"Photon torpedoes ready, sir," he said.

There was no surprise on Karlok's face. If Jim didn't know any better, he thought he saw a hint of admiration.

_I am giving you one last chance, Kirk. Surrender._

"Battle stations. Red alert," Jim said, then held his breath.

The screen went black.

"They're firing," Sulu said.

"Divert all power to forward shields."

The Enterprise rocked under the direct contact, but the shields held.

"Fire torpedoes, Mr. Chekov," Jim said, and the kid followed his orders.

He hailed engineering. "Scotty, where we at?"

_We need more time, Captain!_

Jim let the comm button go, never taking his eyes off the screen. "Hard over, Mr. Sulu. Bring her around."

"She won't respond fast enough on impulse," Sulu said.

The Klingons fired again, and the ship lurched, taking the brunt of the impact on the port side.

"Captain, number four shield is failing. We cannot take another direct hit to that side."

"Noted, Mr. Spock."

"They're firing again," Sulu said.

"Hard to port, Mr. Sulu. Protect that side!"

With only impulse engines, the Enterprise was slow to turn, like a tanker in the ocean. She couldn't maneuver fast enough to protect herself, and they couldn't take much more of this. The bridge exploded in a shower of blinding light. They had managed to protect the port side, but the ship took the brunt of the hit straight on.

"Come on, Scotty," Jim mumbled under his breath.

"Message coming in, Captain."

 _Your shields are failing, Captain,_ Karlok said. _Hand over the Dohlman, or I will destroy you._

Jim gritted his teeth, taking a moment to examine his options. He had to stall, so he called forth the rules of engagement. "This is Captain James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise." His crew recognized the formality, and each of them froze, waiting for his next words. "I formally request the safety of our passenger, the Dohlman from Elas." He wouldn't utter the words surrender, but he would acknowledge the terms.

"You can't do that, Jim," Bones said. Elaan started to protest at the same time, but he held up a hand to silence them both.

 _Lower your shields,_ Karlok said, _and I will transport the Dohlman and her party to my ship._

"That's a risk I'm not willing to take," Jim said.  "If I lower my shields, what's to stop you from blasting my ship to pieces?"

 _Honor_ , Karlok said.

"Honor is grand and everything," Jim said, "but I’m going to need a little more assurance from you if I'm to hand over a guest of the Federation on a diplomatic mission. An act of faith, if you will."

 _Engineering to the Bridge._  

"Standby, Commander," Jim said, stopping the transmission to answer Scotty. "Give me good news, Mr. Scott."

_The shape of the crystals is causing fluctuations. We're experiencing spikes of power. We cannae get them to stabilize._

"Can you give us enough juice to get out of here?"

_Aye, Captain, but I'm no sure for how long._

"We have no choice, Mr. Scott. We need to cut and run."

_Ach, all right. I'll give you all she's got._

"And then some," Jim mumbled. "Do not switch power over until I give the order. Let's make him think we're still defenseless. Kirk out." No one dared move. They waited for his orders, but even Jim wasn't sure what his orders were going to be. "Mr. Spock, prepare the Galileo for departure."

Bones grabbed him by the arm. "Surely you don't mean to hand over the Dohlman."

That kind of declaration wasn't exactly the boost he needed, right now. Shrugging away from his grip, Jim fought the urge to order Bones and the Dohlman off the bridge. His anger had resurfaced, and it wouldn't do any good for him to become emotional right now. He needed Bones to stop clouding his judgment, and to stop questioning his actions.

Choosing not to answer, Jim looked to Spock instead. "You can fly it remotely, right?"

"Yes, Captain." Spock tilted his head, understanding his plan, even if Jim didn't fully grasp it yet. "However, there is no way to shield present life signs aboard the Galileo."

"That's why we're not delivering it empty," Jim said, and for a second, he might have seen a tremor in Spock's lip, but it was gone, leaving only a gleam in his eye. This act would more than likely start a war with the Klingons, or at the very least a longstanding grudge against him, all in the name of honor…or lack thereof.

"I think the Ambassador has over-stayed his welcome," Jim said, then smiled at Elaan. "Don't you agree?"

With tears in her eyes, she smiled in return.

"Lieutenant Uhura, please get the Dohlman a tissue," Jim said. "I think we have enough to deal with at the moment."

=/\=

It didn't take long to launch the Galileo, especially once they had restrained the Ambassador and stuffed him in a seat. The Klingons agreed to the shuttle, provided the Dohlman was on board, and no one else. It was risky, but not as risky as dropping their shields.

"Scotty, we ready?"

_Aye, Captain._

"Warp factor eight. On my mark, standby." He said a silent prayer to whoever watched over him. "Spock?"

"The Galileo has cleared the Enterprise, and is on approach to the Klingon ship."

"Let's get the hell out of dodge," Jim said under his breath. "Now, Mr. Scott!"

The Enterprise's engines hummed to life, and Sulu punched it. They jettisoned through space, away from the Klingon ship, and away from the inevitable outcome if they had stayed. It wouldn’t take them long to figure out the trick Jim had pulled, but this way, they had a head start. At full capacity, the Enterprise could out run them, or even fight them, but the damage they sustained meant the odds weren't in their favor.

"You realize they'll kill him," Bones said low enough so only he heard. Jim nodded, and tried not to read too much into the closeness of Bones' body.

The Ambassador's life was more than likely forfeit, but the man had damaged his ship, and tried to kill him. He would have faced similar judgment on Elas, at least this way, his judgment would be swift and certain at the hands of the Klingons. Jim didn't revel in a life being taking, but he definitely felt justice was served.

_Engineering to the Bridge._

"Go ahead."

_The core is overheating. I have to drop us out of warp._

"Can't do that, Scotty."

_Well, unless you ken how to stop a matter-antimatter reactor from blowing up, you havenae a choice._

Jim cursed, rethinking his horseshoe theory. "Do it. Kirk out." When Jim looked up from the console, all eyes were on him. They'd been in far worse scrapes, against far worse enemies, but without a working ship, there weren't too many Hail Mary options left. They were counting on him to pull that horseshoe out of his ass, but his energy, along with his hope, was fading.

"Looks like running isn't an option," Jim said. "Shields, Mr. Sulu?"

"Seventy percent, but holding."

"Perhaps I could be of more use in Engineering," Spock said.

"Agreed," Jim said. "We may not have warp capability, but see if you can get those shields to full power." Spock's departure left a gaping hole of self-consciousness. Jim didn't realize how much strength he was drawing from him. Without Spock to his right, and a fully committed Bones at his left, he felt naked sitting in his chair.

"Captain, I am sorry," Elaan said, breaking the silence and startling Jim from his thoughts. It seemed she did have the word in her vocabulary. "I will accept their terms, and demand your ship go free."

"It's too late, Your Glory," Bones said. "Whatever chance we had at a deal was gone the moment the Galileo was launched."

It irked Jim that Bones still used her title with such reverence—and what was with the 'we,' he thought, it felt too intimate. Bones might have accepted the cure, but not because his love for Jim outweighed the Dohlman's. He had wanted to save a life, and respecting life was the core of who Bones was, which was why he disagreed with Jim's plan for the Ambassador. Even if Jim achieved what he set out to do, and Bones took the so-called cure, it wasn't for the reasons Jim had wanted to hear, and the truth of that hurt more than anything.

"Dr. McCoy, I'm sure there are injuries that require your attention," Jim said, with a prickle to his voice.

"Last I checked, you had me relieved of my duties as CMO," Bones fired back.

What Jim wanted to say wasn't appropriate in front of this audience and not fitting for a captain in the middle of a crisis. But the Bones he knew wouldn't have stopped being a doctor.

He decided not to say anything, for fear of it sounding petty and childish. He settled in his chair, running through multiple scenarios in his head. With his reputation, his capture would be a prize worthy of a bargain. He'd soiled the Klingon's honor on more than one occasion, and retribution would more than likely be swift, unless they forced a trial by combat, or worse, Rura Penthe. But if his surrender spared his ship and crew, then it was the right decision.

A hand pressed to his shoulder, and he felt the whisper of Bones' warm breath on the back of his neck. "You think I don't know what's going through your head? I _know_ you, Jim. If you want me to leave the bridge, you'll have to order me out. I'm not going anywhere. Someone has to keep your head on straight. I'm not leaving this ship, and, dammit Jim, neither are you. So figure this out without the self-sacrificing bullshit."

A shiver travelled down Jim's spine. He glanced around the bridge to see if anyone heard Bones, but they were focused on their tasks. He wanted to turn around, look Bones in the eyes and find what they'd lost, but if it wasn't there, it would shatter his ability to focus. Whether Bones was his again, or not, it wouldn't change the outcome of this fight.

"Report to the medbay, Dr. McCoy," Jim said without an ounce of civility.

The bridge went quiet at his order. Bones' hand slowly lifted from his shoulder, and a lengthy silence passed before the heat from Bones' body moved away. The doors shut, and Jim felt like he was drowning in indecision.

It was a while before anyone spoke, and the silence pressed upon his failings.

Sulu tensed in his seat, breaking the trance. "Two ships on sensors, closing fast."

Jim sat upright. "Two ships?"

"Yes, Captain. The Klingon ship, and the second…" Sulu punched a few buttons, "distant bearing, mark seven-three-point-five."

"Captain, we're being hailed. A Federation starship," Uhura said, spinning in her seat, letting her excitement show. "Dreadnought class. The USS Dominion."

Jim's surprise was overcome with sudden relief, but he was still wary whenever a warship approached. Call it old habits, but they did die-hard. "Onscreen."

"This is Commander Nash of the USS Dominion." Jim knew Nash from certain circles. Her command usually took her to deep space, or patrolling the neutral zone, rather than rubbing elbows with the brass. He knew her more by reputation, a hard-hitting woman who had the loyalty of her crew, and respect across the galaxy as an equitable commander. Her ship was a formidable one, and the closest thing the Federation had to a warship since the Vengeance. Knowing the ship was at his bow, and Commander Nash at the helm, Jim felt the tension leave his body.

"Captain Kirk, USS Enterprise."

"Kirk, it seems you could use some help. You do have a penchant for Klingons." She wasn't smiling, but he heard the humor in her words.

"You might say that, Commander, but I think we were holding our own."

Nash laughed at that. "Only _you_ would."

"Sir, the Klingons are retreating," Sulu reported.

"Like I said, Commander, under control." Jim smiled, taking a deep breath. "How did you find us, sir?"

The Commander looked to her left, off screen. "We were passing through the Tellun system when we received a hail from the planet Troyius. A determined Prefect-King was particularly adamant we change course to assist the Enterprise. The Elasians caught wind of a plot against the upcoming treaty, and the King's son has some rather important cargo aboard your ship."

They heard a voice reproaching the commander. "The Dohlman of Elas is _not_ cargo." The left of the screen filled with a young man's face, green skin with white hair. He was handsome in his own way, but the set of his broad shoulders as he faced the Commander of a very powerful starship, determined his worth.

"Captain Kirk, I am Cosalthan II of Troyian. Is Her Glory safe?"

Jim held back a smirk as he watched Elaan stand up straight, stepping up beside him.

"I am the Dohlman Elaan of the planet Elas."

"Are you well?" Cosalthan asked.

"I am unharmed."

They all watched relief fill the Troyian's face, and his smile shined with joy. "You are just as I imagined."

Jim held back a laugh. Elaan would eat this one alive—the young Troyian didn't stand a chance. But when he glanced Elaan's way, he recognized the flush on her cheeks, and the way she diverted her eyes as Cosalthan continued staring in awe. For the first time since she had boarded his ship, Jim saw her as a young woman, desperate to discover love. Sitting back in his chair, he soaked up the victory.

"It seems your fiancé has come to rescue you," Jim said, and winked at her, making her blush even more.


	10. Chapter 10

There had been no time to reconcile. Jim's duties had called him to the USS Dominion, and then to the planet Troyius. He had a wedding to officiate, and a peace treaty to mediate. His days were consumed, and he'd chosen to spend the evenings on the planet during the negotiations, rather than head back to the Enterprise. It was to help build relations between the Federation and the Troyians, at least that's what he told himself, and if Spock thought his decision was the wrong one, he had the decency to keep quiet about it.

The compulsion had been broken—at least they thought so. The Chief Medical Officer had ‘volunteered’ to stay behind on the Enterprise, allowing his staff to partake in the celebrations in his stead. It was a valid excuse, considering how hard Geoff had worked, but Jim couldn't deny his relief when Bones had insisted it.

Once the week long celebrations were over, Jim spent his free time helping with the repairs on the Enterprise—much to the dismay of his Chief Engineer. Jim was one brogue curse away from Scotty taking a flux capacitor to his head.

Jim had become the master of avoidance.

Things had been civil between him and Bones, but anytime Bones looked like he wanted that inevitable discussion, Jim conveniently had somewhere he needed to be. "The cure" had worked. And Jim should have been elated Bones had fought through the pheromones without needing an actual serum to reverse the effects, but there was a bitter taste left in his mouth, and he didn’t know why.

He'd been lying on this sofa with his legs hanging over the edge for over an hour, contemplating that very question. Every so often he would turn his head, and breathe deeply into the pillow. It smelled of coffee and whiskey, earthy things with a hint of antiseptic. It smelled of Bones. It was the only place he could be near Bones without being near him. This was his first attempt to get back to some normalcy, mustering up the courage to visit Bones at the end of his shift, just like so many times in the past. He chickened out, though, ducking inside the office before Bones had noticed him. Five minutes of sanctuary turned into sixty, and now it would seem odd if he emerged from Bones' office after hiding out for so long.

Eventually they needed to face each other, but Bones hadn't exactly been chasing him down these past few days either. He thought he could show up after his shift, do some heckling, and act like nothing had changed. But then he heard Bones' deep, unabashed voice, and his plan seemed like the worse plan imaginable. So he settled on the too small for sleeping sofa, and contemplated how he had gotten there.

These past few years, he'd 'invested' in Bones, skirted through life thinking he was untouchable, only to have his world shaken apart in one day. He wouldn't survive if Bones ever left him. It terrified him, and he wasn't sure he wanted to live that way. And that, more than anything, was why he couldn’t face Bones.

The sound of voices outside the door, jolted him out of his reverie.

"Can you no go and get him now?" Scotty asked. He could see two bodies in front of the door, shadowed by the opaque glass. Jim froze, waiting for the door to open to discover him, hiding in the dark, eavesdropping.

"I don’t think the captain wants to see me right now," Bones said without any life to his voice.

"Well, that's just grand, isnae it? 'Cause you're the only one who can stop this madness."

"He'll come around. He just needs to work through this."

"Come around? He's ripping apart half my ship!"

"Your ship, is it, Scotty?"

"Aye, my ship! I'm the only one who seems to bloody-well care about her 'round here. The captain doesnae, not the way he's tearing her up."

"There's one thing you and I both know about Jim."

"What's that, then?"

"You can't make him do anything. You'll have to let this play out."

"Or…I can get Mr. Spock to give him the ol' nerve pinch, and that'll sort him out real quick."

"Yes, Scotty, I suppose there's that."

"So, you're no going to do anything?"

Bones sighed, running a hand over his face. "Where is he?"

"Last I saw him, he was doon in one of the Jeffries tubes."

"All right. Give me a half hour to finish this up, and I'll see what I can do."

Now would have been the optimal time to disappear from Bones' office, but he was paralyzed by fear. He couldn't shake this doubt, and he knew Bones would see right through him.

The door opened, and Jim's breath caught in his throat.

"Jim!" Bones said, then cursed under his breath. "Have you been here this whole time?"

Bones didn't order the lights on, but he did shut the door, locking it. He recognized Jim's need for space, and went over to the desk, resting up against it, instead. A sliver of light highlighted the side of Bones' face, and it was easy to see the sadness and worry etched deeply into the creases. It broke Jim's heart, but he couldn't bring himself to rise and go to him, so he lay on the sofa forcing himself to keep breathing.

Bones folded his arms, and waited, the two sitting in silence that never really made itself comfortable.

"Say something, Jim." But Jim couldn’t, so Bones continued. "What can I do? What do you need me to do?" It was said under his breath, but Jim heard him clear enough. "Want me to apologize? Need me to beg forgiveness, Jim? Because I'll do it. I'll grovel if that's what you need. If you want some time, I can do that, too. I won't like it, but I'll give you whatever you need to make things right again. I can't take back what happened, but I'll sure as hell make up for it." Bones was rambling, but Jim wasn't listening anymore. He’d been sitting in the dark for over an hour, asking himself the one question that rattled around in his brain, and now he wanted to hear it from the only person who mattered.

"How do you know I love you?" he asked.

Bones stopped mid-sentence, and frowned. "What?"

"You must know I love you, right?" Jim asked. "But _how_ do you know?"

Bones seemed tongue-tied by the question. He fidgeted against the edge of the desk, but didn't leave its sanctuary.

"I just do," he eventually said.

"That's not a good enough answer."

"Jim..."

"No, Bones. If we're going to get past all this, I need you to answer my questions."

He waited for Bones to respond, so long that he thought he might walk out without another word, and he didn't know what he would do if he did. But then Bones took a deep breath, unfolded his arms, and gripped the edge of the desk, keeping his head down toward his boots.

"You want to know how I know? Okay, then." Bones nodded a few times. "You have no idea the kind of man you are, how the people who care about you actually see you. You never have. You think you do, ‘cause you play the charismatic card, weaseling your way into people’s emotions, leaving them hanging on, always wanting more, but you never fully commit. You’ve got major abandonment issues, and you're terrified of letting people in, scared of getting too close, so you keep acquaintances, but not too many actual friends. I know it's an act, and anyone who actually cares about you does, too. Am I getting warm?" Bones asked.

Jim cleared his throat in acknowledgement, wondering where exactly this was going, and why Bones had pulled out the clinical diagnosis.

"What I also know, is that you could have anyone in this galaxy you focused your energies on—well, except for Uhura. You’d never get her." They both shared a chuckle, but Bones continued before losing his train of thought.

"For some goddamn reason, you chose me. A cantankerous, old stick in the mud, who argues with you at every turn. Now, I know you're a glutton for punishment, so there is that, but you let me in, Jim. You chose someone who challenges you, and keeps you humble. It's not been easy, but nothing you do ever is. I was quite content to keep things the way they were, but I know this marriage wasn't for my benefit, it was for yours. You wanted to prove to yourself you could have what you’ve always wanted...a lasting relationship—a person you could count on. And I'm thankful everyday for that, because despite what thoughts are running around in your head, I am that person for you. You love me, Jim, and I know that because you show me every morning you allow yourself to wake up in my arms."

There was a sting to Jim's eyes he didn't want Bones to see, so he stayed in the safety of the darkened corner.

"Now, if you need me to prove the same to you, I can't do that, Jim. I can't speak the words to convince you. I can only hope to show you for the rest of our lives together. Don't use this as an excuse to cut and run. We're better than that. I know you. And I know you're thinking this is too hard, that you let me to get too close."

His words struck deep. Jim fought against every urge to get up and walk out, but his heart won out, and he stayed.

"At some point you're going to have to jump into these marriage waters with me. You've been dangling one foot in, while the other's been keeping dry. Don't think I don't know that. My gran always said, 'The calm waters are easy; it's the rapids that prove your worth.' So, let's prove our worth. I'm in it for the long haul, and no little princess with voodoo magic can change that."

The thing was, Jim didn't need Bones to prove anything. He'd overcome whatever hold the tears had on him, and no matter what actually broke him free, he was here by choice. Jim could blame this on the pheromone, but it still didn't change the crushing feeling he experienced when he thought Bones was going to leave him, and that was all on him.

He thought of his mother and father, and of his childhood, and how he held everyone at arm's length. It was safe. And when it came to people, Jim Kirk was comfortable with safe. But with those memories, an emptiness was conjured, and it was weighted down and suffocating. He'd been reckless in his youth, collecting a trail of names of people who came in and out of his life, never sticking around long enough for them to take purchase on his emotions. The last few days had hurt like hell. Dying had been easier, except now he was here with a broken heart, and he may have been bleeding, but at least he was breathing.

His heart fluttered at the thought of Pike, and what he might say to him. He heard him whispering inside his head, daring him to stay, to be the man he put his faith in, and pushing him to be better at _everything_ in his life: a captain, a friend, a son, a husband, and fate-willing, maybe someday a father. He could hear his voice like he was in the room with them, those blue eyes steeled with age, staring at him, and waiting for him to accept his challenge.

There was no one else Jim could imagine a life with other than Bones, and he would spend the rest of his life making sure Bones never gave up on him. He _had_ been skirting along the shore, waiting for the worst to happen, and it hadn't been fair to Bones. He had said the vows at their wedding, but it was only now that he could commit to the words.

Pressing his hands on his knees, Jim slowly rose to meet Bones halfway. It felt like an eternity since he had spoken, and when he did, his voice cracked.

"I've never been much of a swimmer," he said.

Bones half laughed, and half cried as he reached out a hand toward him. "I'll show you how."

"I'm jumping in, Bones," Jim said, taking his hand. "Don't let me drown."

Bones pulled him close, until their chests were touching. They stayed that way for a few breaths, staring into each other's eyes, searching for what had always been there, but forgotten these past few days.

Bones' lips found his, and he whispered against them, "Never."

It should have been frantic, and to some extent it was, but to Jim, their kisses felt like a slow moving wave, each of them pushing and pulling, their mouths crashing against the other. Bones held him tight, like he was afraid Jim would have second thoughts if he let him go.

They were both already hard in anticipation, and Jim should've protested their location, but if Bones didn't seem to mind, he sure as hell wasn't going to. He wasn't thinking as a captain, only that he needed to have Bones under him, right now.

Their mouths separated briefly, enough to remove Bones' shirts, and enough for Jim to admire what was his. He trailed his hands slowly down Bones' chest along to his waist, hooking his fingers into his belt. Bones stood fixed, hardly breathing, while Jim shed him of the rest of his clothes. It still took Jim's breath away whenever he looked at Bones. His muscles were flat, and flowed smoothly from his shoulders to his chest, with thick, dark hair amassing on his belly and thighs. He was made beautifully, long and lean, so different from his own body. While Jim may have been lean, Bones' body had a gracefulness to it that his lacked.

"Your turn," Bones said with vigor.

Once Jim removed his clothes, it occurred to them the sofa was a little too small for what they had in mind, and Bones' desk would never support them. After all these years, they'd never had sex in Bones' office. Comforts were sorely lacking in this space, and they were older now that cold floors weren't so appealing.

"We can go—" Bones hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the door.

"We're not going anywhere," Jim said. "We'll make do."

"Jim..." But Bones didn't get to finish his protest, because Jim's tongue was down his throat.

"Cold," Bones gasped, when Jim pushed him to the floor.

It had been a long time since they'd done this somewhere other than their bed, and he didn't really think about the frigid tiles as he shoved a naked Bones underneath him—he just wanted to feel him next to his skin.

"I'll make up for it," Jim said, grinding his hips down. They both moaned, and then caught themselves when they heard noises outside the door.

Bones shushed him. "The last thing I need, is a member of my staff walking in to see your bare ass on top of me on this cold-ass floor."

Jim laughed into Bones' mouth, his chest rumbling at that notion. "Could be worse."

"How?"

"I could have my cock in you."

Bones groaned, lifting his hips, pressing against Jim. "Well, we're not dry humping on this floor like teenagers. If we're getting caught, you better make it worth my while, or I'm going back to the comforts of our bed."

"You're not going anywhere," Jim said, hitching Bones' leg up to get closer. "Remember the first time we almost got caught?" Jim asked, his tongue lingering a little longer, sucking a mark into Bones' neck. Bones was hard and hot underneath him, and Jim swore he felt his body flush at the memory.

"I do." They slowly rocked back and forth in rhythm, staring into each other's eyes.

"This is better."

"Well, I should hope so." Bones stopped moving, and lightly slapped Jim's ass. "I still owe you for that. You made me come in my pants, and I had to sit through that meeting with Boyce for two hours. I was glued in them. Had to peel those pants off in the shower."

"Fuck, Bones," Jim moaned. He had forgotten that part of the supply closet story. "I bet he smelled the sex on you through that meeting."

"I'm sure he could. I know I could. And every time I did, I got hard just thinking about you. Goddamn itch drove me insane. That's what you do to me, Jim. You're my goddamn itch." Bones' arms came around him, and Jim was met with the warmth and hardness of his mouth. He opened for Bones, letting his tongue trace along his bottom lip until Bones was sucking, and licking, eager to take control. They kissed, and rocked against each other without abandon, and when Jim finally came up for air, Bones’ eyes seemed glassy and far away.

"Bones?" Jim asked.

"That whole time under the Dohlman's influence, I knew it was wrong," Bones said, "like I was living inside a different person. It tore me down the middle every time I thought about you. It was like a stitch being cut before its time, ripping me away from you."

Jim didn't want to move for fear of breaking the spell. He was painfully hard, they both were, but this was the first time Bones had mentioned what it was like for him, and he needed to get it out, so Jim wasn't about to stop him.

"Each time I tried to fight against it, another stitch would pop, until I had to stop fighting, or I'd risk losing you completely. If I didn't fight, it meant I could keep you with me." Bones exhaled, closing his eyes. He stayed like that for a long beat, his chest rising and falling underneath Jim, then he turned his head to the side, and his voice was low and raw. "And when I thought you were dying, it felt like I was being split in half. It hurt so goddamn much, I just wanted it to be over." His voice hitched, and he shuddered. "I'm sorry, Jim."

There was so much shame Bones was feeling, and Jim had never thought about what Bones had went through, or what Jim had put him through by avoiding him these past few days. He couldn't tell Bones about the cure, he couldn't risk the placebo effect, but he could make this right.

"Hey, hey," Jim whispered, directing his chin so he could look in his eyes. "Bones, we wouldn't be here if you hadn't fought. There's no blame, and from this moment on, there's no more shame. We're putting this behind us. One more trial and tribulation we faced, and I'm sure it won't be the last." Jim kissed him, watching him with a careful eye, waiting for that inevitable eyebrow raise to let him know everything was right in their world again.

"Bones?"

And then he saw it, an anchor in the turbulent water, grounding him, and granting Jim permission to let go and smile—and it was infectious.

"No blame?" Bones asked.

"Well, a little," Jim said, chuckling. "I blame you for my blue balls, right now."

He soaked up Bones' laughter, holding him tight, laughing into the crook of his neck.

"God, I love you, Bones." It came out desperate, but Jim wasn't ashamed. He'd discovered he needed Bones like he needed air, and to have him ripped away beyond his control, meant he was entitled to a little desperation.

Bones hooked his leg around Jim, flipping them over, and he couldn't stop the yelp that came out of his mouth. The floor _was_ damn cold.

"You want to talk feelings some more?" Bones asked. "Or you gonna make this worth my while?" He rutted up against Jim with their cocks lined up, and the pressure was divine. Jim jerked his hips up, and Bones let out a grunt of approval.

He wanted to draw this out, make Bones pliant under his fingers and mouth, touching and licking all over his body, but they were on borrowed time, and he needed to have Bones now.

He had a hold of Jim's hip, rocking against him, trying to gain more leverage. It was painful and pure, and so damn sensitive and raw, Jim couldn’t take much more. He was making odd, breathless noises, and if he didn't get his cock inside Bones soon, it would be over before it began.

"Bones..." Jim whimpered.

"I know."

"Oh, fuck."

"I _know._ " The weight and heat of Bones was gone. Jim's eyes snapped open, to find him rustling through a cabinet. He was back before Jim could even protest, shoving what they needed in his hand.

"Did I mention I love you?"

"Cold, hard floor, Jim," Bones said, lying down with his legs splayed. "Make it damn good, or you'll owe me for a long time."

"I make no promises. We've never gone this long without..." Jim felt the pulse in his cock as he worked it, slicking it up with fervor. His heart pounded in his ears, and when he glanced down at Bones, lying there with his hand at the base of his cock, stroking it lightly, he felt an overwhelming sense of possession.

He slid his hand up Bones’ thigh until his fingers circled around his entrance, teasing a little before sliding two fingers inside him. He worked him open until Bones was panting heavily, and his legs had started to shake. Leaning forward, Jim kissed him, sucking on his tongue until Bones writhed underneath him in protest. Jim held himself above Bones, staring into those vibrant eyes as he reached between them to position himself. And then his cock was slowly sliding into Bones, all the way in, until they were as close as they could be. He hovered there for a few breaths, at least until Bones let out a deep sigh.

"I do know what this ring on my finger means," Bones said. And Jim felt his ears grow warm, remembering his outburst in the medbay. "I am yours, Jim."

Jim held back a sob. Bones was one of the few possessions he had in his life. This man was his.

The possessive streak he felt earlier reared its head, and all he wanted was ownership of him. He pulled out, then thrust in again, not slow or soft, and Bones wrapped his legs around him, and let him. "Mine," Jim said, and as cliché as it sounded in Jim's head, he couldn't stop himself. He said it over and over, and each time, he shoved in harder than the last, until his breaths were ragged, and Bones was bucking underneath him. Arching upward, Bones cried out—sounds be damned—and then a wetness spread between them. He rode out Bones' tremors, until his muscles were taut, aching like Bones' body was taking him apart piece by piece. His orgasm came like a tidal wave, crashing over him, pulling him under until his lungs burned like they were going to burst. Then a hand rested on his back, running lightly along his spine to the back of his neck, and it stayed there, pulling him back from the depths until he could breathe easily again.

They lay there until the room chilled the sweat on their bodies, and goose-bumps broke out on their skin. He didn't want to move, he didn't think he could move, but Jim found himself reluctantly slipping out of Bones, and it signaled the need to get up.

"Nothing happened, Jim," Bones said. Jim stayed silent, not sure what to say. "I know you're wondering."

"No, I wasn't."

"You wouldn't have fucked me like that if you weren't." Bones trailed a finger along Jim's jawline, turning his chin so he could look at him. "She never even kissed me."

"You seemed pretty comfortable with each other."

"It wasn't really like that. I can't say nothing would've happened. The truth is, if you didn't find that cure, something might've. I would've hated myself for it, but it wouldn't have been real."

Jim sighed, and gave Bones the truth. "Compulsion or not, it would've changed things."

Bones kissed him with soft lips, and a gentle tongue. It left Jim desperate for more when Bones rolled onto his back with a regretful sigh.

"Yeah, it would have," Bones said. "If I had been in your shoes, forget the brig, I would've castrated you."

"What?"

"I'm a surgeon." Bones shrugged. "I could reattach the testes. I'd leave them off long enough to teach you a lesson, though."

"You'd miss this too much." Jim took hold of Bones' hand, shoving it between them in the sticky mess.

"Jim!" In payback, he squeezed Jim's cock, making him flinch, but also making his cock come back to life. Bones rolled his eyes. "You're probably right."

"Probably?"

"More than likely." Bones smiled, one eyebrow raised in jest.

"Maybe I need to remind you some more." Jim pressed up against Bones' hip, positioning himself so Bones could reacquaint himself with the reminder.

"Definitely," Bones said, but pushed Jim off him. "You can remind me all night long, as many times as you want, just no more floors, Jim. I need our bed—that big, soft, beautiful, warm bed."

"Maybe I should get Scotty to beam us there."

"I think you better stay clear of Scotty for awhile." Bones started to get dressed, and Jim reluctantly followed.

"Scotty's a whiny bastard." He slipped his shirt over his head, and an overwhelming sense of blissful happiness and peace washed over him. It was so foreign, it actually incited panic. "Don't ever leave, Bones," he said, rushing it all out in one breath, low enough that he hoped the rustling of their clothes had prevented him from hearing it.

Bones was bent over, pulling his boots on one at a time. When he finished, he rose, straightened his uniform, and with a scowl on his face that seemed to be set in stone, he found Jim's eyes, and made him a promise Jim would forever hold him to.

"If it's within my power, Jim, I'll never leave."


	11. Chapter 11

**=/\= THE END STUFF =/\=**

 

"Bones! I have a gray hair!" Jim called out from the bedroom. "This is because of you." He appeared in front of Bones, holding on to the tiny strand of hair in question. "Look. Right here."

He showed him the one snow-white hair nestled amongst the gold. Bones laughed. "Well join the club, genius. 'Bout time I had some payback."

"That's all you have to say? How can I stop it? Should I pluck it, or is it true about more growing back?"

"Jim," Leonard sighed, "it's a gray hair. Don't be so vain. It's a part of growing old."

"I am not old."

"Whatever you say."

"I'm not."

"Fine. You're not."

"I hate it when you agree with me just for the sake of agreeing. It's frustrating."

"No, what's frustrating is you thinking you're the only person in this universe who can beat old age. This is one no-win scenario you _will_ lose, Jim."

"There has to be some kind of concoction, or vitamins I can take, right?"

"It's called hair dye. We can pick some up on the next shore leave. I'm sure no one who lives with you would be bold enough to snap a holo of you dyeing your hair, Captain Vanity. And they definitely wouldn't post it on the network for everyone to see."

"I'm being serious." Jim was back in front of the mirror, gently tugging on the strand. "I'm going to pluck it." He tried to get a good grip, but the hair was too short for his fingers. "These suckers are rooted deep."

"Tell me about it. Wait 'til they start growing on your balls," Bones said, speaking into his coffee cup.

"Wait, what?" Jim came back out of the bedroom. "You have gray hair on your balls?"

"A few." Leonard shrugged.

"How come I've never noticed?"

Leonard looked at him over his mug. "You really have to ask that?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"Jim, it's not exactly like you stare at the hair on my balls when we're having sex. You're usually preoccupied."

"Are you saying I'm a self-involved lover?"

"That's not what I'm saying, and you know it. I'm saying we usually have more important things going on than you examining the color of my pubic hair."

Jim groaned. "Don't say that word."

"Pubic?"

"Stop, Bones. Stop."

"It's the correct term. What would you have me call them? And if you tell me to say 'pubes' or 'short and curlies,' we are done."

"Dick fro?"

"You're incorrigible."

"You say that about me to M'Benga, don't you?"

"What? No. What are you talking about?"

"Nothing, nevermind," Jim said, biting his thumbnail. "Let me see it."

"I'm not showing you my pubic hair, right now."

"Why not?"

"Because it's seven in the morning, I'm fully dressed, and I have to report for duty soon. Besides, you have to be on the bridge."

"I want to see."

"What was it you said to me? Oh, right. There are a million things in the universe you can have, and a million you can't. That's just the way it is." Bones smiled, sipping his coffee. "No fun, is it?"

That didn't deter Jim in the slightest. He caught Bones' smirk, the one that was meant as a challenge. Jim just had to come up with a clever way to get them both what they wanted. Spinning Bones' stool, Jim parted Bones' legs, nestling his way between them. He could feel the heat from Bones' thighs through his pants, and when he rubbed his hands along the tops of Bones' legs, he was rewarded with a squeeze.

"You sure you don't want to let me see?" Jim wriggled his eyebrows. "I'll make it worth your while."

"Jim..." Leonard protested, but his thighs fell open ever so slightly, allowing Jim to move closer. "You are hopeless."

"You said as much." His fingers trailed up Bones' pants, until they found their way to his zipper. "Pants off. Now."

"Can I at least finish my coffee?"

"You can drink while I look."

"I'm married to a prepubescent boy."

"Stop saying pube!"

"What's wrong with that word? I thought it was the word 'moist' you hated."

"Stop it!"

"Or wasn't it 'panties?'"

"You're ruining the mood."

"There was no mood."

"Oh no?" In one quick breath, Jim unzipped Bones' pants, and had a hold of his cock, making Bones spill his coffee down the front of his shirt.

"For God's sake, Jim. Now I'm going to have to change."

"That was the plan," Jim said, removing the soiled shirt with his free hand.

"Jim..."

"Just one look."

Bones reluctantly lifted his ass off the stool allowing Jim to push his pants and boxers down his thighs. Smiling in victory, Jim caressed the hair on his legs, while watching Bones roll his eyes at him. Bones had put his mug down, and now sat back against the stool with his arms folded staring down at Jim. Bones had perfected his look of annoyance, and anyone else might see his expression, and back away with their arms raised, but Jim knew better. He could recognize Bones' levels of exasperation, and as Jim's hand began to stroke him, he only needed to take one look at his eyes to see them dark and heavy with expectation.

Jim went down to his knees to get a better look, and Bones was just there, his cock working its way to being hard, pink and thick, and there for the taking.

He would have loved to have drawn this out, make Bones whimper and beg until he would be rutting against Jim's tongue, but they did need to be on duty soon, so what he wanted to do would have to wait for another time. Besides, his knees weren't what they used to be—not that he'd ever admit that to Bones.

"Get a good look?" Bones went to move, but Jim slapped his leg with his free hand, shushing him in the process.

"Hard to see. Need a light."

"I'm not letting you shine a spotlight on my dick."

"Come on," Jim said and laughed. "It's worthy of one." Jim leaned in and licked, a broad sweep with the flat of his tongue, slow and steady pressure, then he flicked the tip to tease him.

"Goddammit, Jim."

When he pulled away, all Jim could do was stare. Bones was fully hard now, sticking straight up, just waiting for Jim to reach out and stroke his fingers up the shaft of his cock, but he was down here for one thing—well two, but first thing first.

Cupping Bones, he tested the weight of him in the palm of his hand. He heard the sharp intake of breath from Bones, and in response, Jim squeezed ever so slightly, rolling his balls between his fingers before lifting them up slightly to get a better look.

And sure enough, there was one wiry, white hair, sticking straight out and so very different from the other dark ones around it. Running his thumb over it, he licked his lip before raising his head to look at Bones who seemed somewhat amused by this whole thing.

"How can you possibly see this one, Bones?" Jim asked. "Have you been holding out on me? Can you actually bend this far over?"

"It's not the only one, you moron."

And a quick glance confirmed it. Jim did see a few others, poking up and around his length in much more accessible areas than the one underneath his left nut, but they weren't as long.

He sensed Bones' irritation, so before he could protest—or worse, jump up off the stool—Jim closed his mouth around Bones' cock, his lips stretching to accommodate his size. He slid easily in and out of Jim's mouth, and the sounds Bones made each time Jim hollowed his cheeks, went straight to his own cock. At the rate they were going, Jim would need to change his pants when they were through. Unlike Bones, it had been awhile since Jim had come in his pants like a teenage boy, but each time he flicked his tongue over the ridge of his cock, Bones whispered his name in encouragement, and there was something about Bones' voice that made him painfully aroused and twitchy, until all it would take was one rub against his zipper, and he'd explode without the reward of flesh on flesh.

Bones' legs were starting to shake underneath his hands, and he recognized the signs, even heard Bones' warning, but he kept his lips firmly wrapped around his cock, sucking harder, and then Bones' hands were in his hair, pulling, but Jim stayed kneeling until he got what he wanted. The bitter, salty taste of Bones' orgasm filled his mouth, and the only thing he could do, and wanted to do, was swallow.

"Jim," Bones huffed, pulling him closer, until the shin of his leg pressed up against Jim's painfully hard cock. He started rubbing, ever so gently, then harder and faster, until Jim gave in, grunting at his own release. And—damn it—a change of pants was definitely needed.

Panting, he fell against Bones' thigh, nestling his mouth in the junction between Bones' hip and thigh, reveling in the scent of sex. He kissed him softly a few times, trying to catch his breath, and then he let his lip linger a little longer, until he started to suck, hoping to leave his signature seal on Bones.

"You better not leave any marks, you ingrate," Bones said, sounding out of breath. "M'Benga scheduled a follow-up for me today. And you have one, too."

"See, but my doctor gets turned on by these kinds of marks." Jim's lips attached themselves to Bones' hip.

"Stop, you infant." Bones gripped his hair, giving it a sharp tweak to further that warning.

From this angle, Jim had a clear view of the single strand of gray underneath Bones' balls. Rubbing his thumb over it, he twisted his fingers until he was sure he had a firm grip on it. With one quick pull, he yanked it out.

"You bastard!" Bones yelped, hopping off the stool, and effectively unseating Jim to the floor. He lay on his back, a visible wet spot on the front of his pants, and was smiling like he'd just won a prize at the Planetary Fair. Holding the hair up to the light, he narrowed his eyes to examine it. "They really are thick, little buggers."

"They're not the only ones," Bones said, pulling up his pants. "You'll pay for that." He looked around for his shirts, and when he spotted them near Jim's head, he couldn't help the kick he gave Jim's ass as he reached for them. "This will keep, Jim. When you least expect it."

"Oh, come on, Bones. Lighten up," Jim said, coming up to rest on his elbows, still feeling flushed and out of breath. "You have, like, three more down there. It was just one little hair." He pointed to the shirts Bones was holding. "Those are dirty," he added.

He might have growled, Jim couldn't be sure, since the shirts came flying at his head, and then he was overwhelmed with the smell of coffee and Bones.

"Remember the shaved balls, Jim?" Bones had come out of the bedroom holding new uniform shirts. "Ever tried waxing?" he asked, before slipping them over his head.

"Love you, Bones..."

He stopped in front of the door, shaking his head, and then he smiled—a genuine, devious one—not like the ones Bones reserved for Admirals and Spock. This one, Jim knew all too well, and he had to admit, it kind of terrified him.

"When you least expect it, Jim." Then Bones blew him a kiss, before walking out the door.

"Bones!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's it! Took me way longer to write this than I had planned. Going into this story, it was meant to be a fluffy, short fic. I guess short & fluffy aren't in my genetic makeup. Thank you for reading, and thank you for sticking it out with me. You are the best!  
> (I'm sure I'll be back.)


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